The Night of the Disguised Assassin
by Andamogirl
Summary: Dr. Loveless is back! He kidnaps James West and Artemus Gordon and, thanks to a hypnotist, forces the older agent to kill a Senator. But it won't go according to plan. Adventures ensue.
1. Teaser

**THE NIGHT OF THE DISGUISED ASSASSIN**

 **By Andamogirl**

Author's note: season 4. This story takes place before "The Night of Miguelito's Revenge" (an Artie-less episode as he is on his way to Washington).

References to the following WWW episodes: "The night of the Gypsy Peril", "The Night of the Simian Terror", "The night of the Sedgewick Curse" and "The night of the Two-Legged Buffalo."

I love Voltaire so he's back in this story, even if he 'disappeared' after the end of the 1st season.

Reference to my story "The Night of the Outlaw." This story comes after my other story called "The Night of The Lost World".

In this story, Artemus is offered a special assignment in Washington, but it's not the one we hear about in The Night of Miguelito's Revenge". But I explain why he'll be chosen to go to the Capital in that episode.

 _Dr. Loveless: (posing as a ventriloquist's dummy) I must tell you about my friend West._

 _Tiny: Why, what about him?_

 _Dr. Loveless: I went to his funeral the other day. There was no one there._

 _Tiny: Yeah, how come?_

 _Dr. Loveless: He wanted to keep it a secret service._

 _Dr. Loveless: Ah, at long last you are here. Of course, Mr. West, there is something of the salmon in you. The fiercer, the more impossible the cataracts that face you, the more furiously you swim through them to win your goal._

 _The Night of Miguelito's revenge_

Warning: violence. Angst. Nudity (the boys bathe in a hot spring and then in a mud bath).

Many thanks to my beta reader Tripidydoodah.

WWW

 **TEASER**

 _Washington D.C._

 _The Wanderer_

 _Artemus Gordon's lab (and dressing room)_

Running his hand across his jaw, thoughtfully, Jim West said, "I don't know… there's something wrong with your disguise Artie, but I can't just put my finger on it."

Unsatisfied by his 'old rich Lady's' look Artemus Gordon looked again at his reflection in the mirror – or rather, at _her_ reflection as he was disguised as an old woman, he mused. "Perhaps it's the dress? It's an old one, but the only one I found appropriate for the role. I ran out of emerald green silk fabric for the new one I'm sewing, so I had to stop. I wanted an elegant emerald green dress with white lace and ribbons to go with my character… as I didn't have one. This dress I'm wearing is dark blue and simple with just black lace on the sleeves; as you can see… I don't look like a rich old woman in it. But I don't have any other choice. My other dresses are too brightly colored and more adapted to younger characters." He sighed. "I need to buy new dresses for my female disguises wardrobe. I know a place in Washington where the tailors – friends of mine - design the most beautiful dresses in the country."

He raised his arm and touched his grayish ponytailed wig. He winced and suppressed a grunt of pain. That big ape had almost crushed him and cracked two of his ribs three days ago, he recalled. Dr. Von Liebig had tightly bandaged his chest with compression wraps to help splint and immobilize the area, but they still hurt like hell every time he breathed, bent and twisted his body, he thought. 'My breathing is regular though, so there is no damage to my lungs…'

He rubbed his chin pensively. "Perhaps it's the wig too? I should change it for a white one, but I don't want to look that old, no. I want my character to be an _active_ old woman." He touched his aching ribs and continued, "This damn corset is killing me! It is too tight!"

Furrowing his brow, Jim proposed, "Do you want me to loosen the laces of your corset?"

Eyes glistening with mischief, Artie chuckled softly, "No, thanks, and I'm sure you're an expert in that domain. You have had a lot of practice."

Jim grinned. "You too buddy, you too."

Cupping his faux breasts, Artie proposed, "Oh! I know, maybe it's my faux bust? Maybe it's too high? Or it's my makeup. It's maybe too bland, what do you think? I could put some rouge on my lips instead of the light rose I chose…"

He heard a soft meow and looked down at his feet. Aztec was there, sitting on her haunches, her tail wrapped around her tiny body, blinking up at him. "Aztec! There you are my little girl."

He smiled and scooped up the kitten in one hand onto his lap. "Hello Aztec. Where have you been my little girl? I searched for you all morning."

Petting the mini cat's head and eliciting happy purrs, Jim said, "I know that she loves hiding in the hay of the stable car. She was probably there and that's why you didn't find her."

Settling the kitten on the table, in front of him, between two open boxes of makeup, Artemus leaned toward Aztec and waved a stern finger at the baby British shorthair. "Don't go in the stable car, Aztec, it's dangerous. Mo, Lockpick and Blackjack are gentle horses but they could kill you, you're so small they could trample you without seeing you …" While Aztec swiped a sandpapery tongue against his callused thumb, he looked again at his face reflected in the mirror, "So, Jim, rouge or rose?"

Playing with the kitten's tail, Jim responded, "Rose, not rouge. Rouge is the right color for saloon girls or French cancan dancing girls, not old women like your character - Although I would love to see you dance the French cancan on a stage with a feather boa around your neck ... You would be great!"

Glancing at Jim Artie smiled. "I'd like that. Maybe one day, who knows?" He said, enchanted with this idea. "I love being on a stage. I I can dance any dance you know? It's too bad you didn't meet Isabelle Ferret in New Orleans before she left for Shrevport, Louisiana to open a dance school. I met her when I was posted there… That was after the war, when we worked for the Secret Service, but not together. You would have loved her. She was a lovely woman, intelligent, talented… She died two years ago during the yellow fever epidemic in Louisiana, and I miss her. She was a good friend." His chocolate eyes briefly clouded with grief, then, preferring good thoughts to bad ones, he added, "She was a French dance teacher who had directed shows in Parisian cabarets. I spent three days with her before I started my mission. She taught me many types of dances, like the Argentinian tango, the Spanish Flamenco and the French Cancan…" He smiled, "And I was wearing a dress… "

Pressing Artie's shoulder in a gesture of compassion, Jim said, "I'm sorry she died." He paused letting his best friend close the door on his memories. Then, when he saw Artie inch toward the kitten and kiss Aztec's tiny rose nose, he added, "You need to infiltrate a rest home for old people to find an assassin hiding there, so no rouge. Your makeup is perfect for the role you're going to play." He suddenly snapped his fingers twice. "I know what's wrong, you don't have any jewelry, no necklaces, no earrings, no brooch, and no rings… You're supposed to be a very rich woman, Artie. You look like an old countryside granny like this."

Realizing that too, Artie nodded. "You're right. Jewelry! That's what's missing." He opened his cupboard and pulled out a case. He opened it revealing necklaces, earrings, bracelets, with precious stones and white and black pearls. "You see? I'm very rich!" And he grinned.

Immediately Jim took a gold ring topped with a very good imitation of a big diamond. He frowned and waved a stern finger. "You know Artie, as a Federal agent I could arrest you for having fake jewels. It's forbidden by the law, it's a federal offense."

Looking back at the 'old lady' in the mirror, Artie smiled. "I declared them to the US Treasury as part of my much needed clothing and accessories. I am a legitimate owner of faux jewelry." He wrapped a pearl necklace with three rows around his neck, clipped matching earrings in his ears and slid a big sapphire ring on each of his middle fingers. "And voilà!"

Nodding, Jim looked down at his partner's shoes. He wore low-heeled boots. "What? No high heels?"

Following his partner's gaze, Artie looked down at his feet. "No, it's all I've got. I need to buy new shoes too. Besides, saloon girls wear high-heels, not old ladies. In fact I need to refurbish all my female disguises." He sighed. "I broke my last pair of high-heeled shoes the last time I ran after Louis Ferguson in San Francisco. My heels broke, I twisted my ankle, fell, he escaped and I ended up in the hospital. And my yellow flowery dress was ruined because I landed in a pool of mud."

Smiling, Jim ran his fingers through Aztec's fur and she purred in response. "And the doctors and nurses were very surprised to discover that the lovely red-haired and muddy woman wearing an equally muddy dress with a twisted ankle - was actually a man."

Chuckling Artemus looked up at Jim. "That was after two doctors and a male nurse offered to buy me dinner and take me to the theater after taking care of me. I was quite a success."

Pulling a Derringer out of the inside pocket of his bolero jacket Jim gave a short laugh. "I suppose you took it as a compliment?" He became suddenly very serious and placed the small gun in Artemus's hand. "The man hiding there killed Senator Peterson and three cavalry officers in cold blood. You need to be very careful Artie."

Closing his fingers around the easily-concealed firearm Artie nodded. "I will." He leaned forward to place the Derringer in the holster strapped beneath his knee. "I had to shave my legs and arms; there are no little sacrifices…Ow! Oh, no…," he breathed as he felt a splitting headache numb his brain. He had a sudden dizzy spell and crumpled to his knees, seeing a flash in front of his eyes. Blackness engulfed him shortly after and he slumped on his side, barely conscious.

Frowning in concern, Jim dragged Artie to his bed, maneuvered him on top of it and took his pulse: it was rapid and erratic. He noticed then that his breathe was ragged as if he had run several miles. "Don't move Artie, take it easy, it will pass."

Artie rubbed his head where he had been hit two weeks ago, grimacing in pain. "I know… Senator Buckley hit me pretty hard with his cane, and I got a very bad concussion…"

His brow furrowed in worry, Jim nodded. "And dizzy spells since that time and even bouts of unconsciousness from time to time. Artie, we should postpone this mission. You're not in tip-top condition. President Grant will understand. Let me send a telegram to Colonel Richmond."

Hearing the kitten mewl in worry, Jim scooped up Aztec and settled the kitten on Artemus's lap; finger gently rubbing under the small feline's chin to soothe it.

Pulling Aztec close, on his chest, Artemus waved his free hand in a dismissive gesture. "I can do it. It's a very bad idea to let the President know about my current situation. He's worse than my mother. If I do that, I will end up in Dr. Henderson's hands for a week! And he'll visit me ten times a day to see if I'm okay. That's a bad, bad idea! We have to capture this assassin before he leaves his hiding place." He paused to gently rub between the kitten's tiny ears and Aztec purred." It was pure chance that a witness to the crime saw him enter the rest home after he murdered those four men. Hopefully, the assassin didn't see him, or he would be dead too, so he doesn't know that we know where he is. When he realizes that the police are not searching for him – because the President gave that mission to us – he'll feel safe and he'll leave. There's no time to lose." He offered his partner a reassuring smile. "I'm going to be alright." He brought the kitten out in front of his face and brushed his very small whiskers, and in response, the kitten licked his nose. He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh, feeling his headache receding a little.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Jim's frown increased. "You're not alright, Artie. You were half dead three days ago. It's not only that Senator Buckley hit you on your head, hard, breaking your skull or almost, but that gigantic monkey broke some of your ribs."

Petting the kitten's back, Artemus replied, "Half dead? You're exaggerating. I'm fine, Jim. Really. The doctor told me I'll have dizzy spells for a month or so. I'm not going to sit and read books for that long and let you do the missions alone. I just need to sleep a little… You worry far too much."

Frowning, Jim retorted, "One of us has to. You were… " He didn't finish his sentence as he watched Artemus going limp and close his eyes.

His head rolled to one side. He had passed out again. Aztec mewled in distress and started to lick her owner's slack face.

WWW

 _Later, in the parlor suite_

The Derringer holstered beneath his petticoat Artemus Gordon sat at the table and poured himself a full cup of coffee to which he added a little brandy.

He looked at his partner. Jim was still worried about him. "I'm fine Jim," don't worry about me," he said with a reassuring smile. He raised his cup. "To the success of the mission." Then he took a sip, set the cup beside his plate and started to wolf down the dozen pancakes piled on it.

Relaxing a bit Jim noticed, "It doesn't lessen your appetite."

Pouring caramel over them, Artie shook his head. "Nothing can make me lose my appetite, Jim. Like my mother always likes to tell me, 'Artemus, you're a walking stomach'."

Lowering his eyes to the file opened between the pot of freshly brewed coffee and the jug of milk, Jim read it again. "Mmm… The description of the man is very sparse: young, tall, broad back and shoulders, short dark hair, left handed, big hands…" He finished his coffee and added. "As he's not an old man, he's probably hiding amongst the personnel of the resting home."

Artemus smiled and using the voice of an old woman he said, "Good deduction, Mr. West. But old women like me love to be taken care of by such young, solid and broad shouldered men…" then using his own baritone voice he added, "I will find him."

Jim chuckled. "You know, after all these years at your side, I'm still amazed by how easy it is for you to use any kind of voice – male or female, young or old, and a large variety of different accents. Tell me, what name did you choose for your character? And what is your story?"

Artie spread a thick layer of marmalade on some toast and taking on an old southern lady's accent said, "My name is Artemis McGordon. I lost my husband Arthur two months ago. He was much older than me but he left me with his gambling debts. I had to sell the family mansion in Virginia to repay them. I had enough money left to come to the Oak Manor Resting home and live there, peacefully and pampered till the end of my life. I have no children, just a very helpful nephew, called James North' - and he looks exactly like you!" He bit into his toast and added with his mouth full, "He's helpful because he thinks he's going to inherit my money. But I'm not going to leave him a single dollar! He was very mean to me once… I never forgot it."

Pouring himself a second cup of coffee Jim grinned in admiration. "Ah! Artie! You're priceless!" Then he added one lump of sugar to it.

He heard AG meowing up at him and looked down to see his cat rub along his leg and between them, its long tail curling around his calf.

He reached down to stroke over the black cat soft fur, receiving purrs and soft head-butts from the fluffy feline. He poured a little milk into a saucer and lowered it to the carpeted floor. AG immediately started to lap the creamy liquid.

Glancing around him, trying to spot his two felines, a bit worried, Artemus said, "I'm wondering where Aztec and Marmalade are. I hope Aztec is not in the stable car…"

He saw Jim point his finger toward the door and heard him say, "They're here."

Pivoting in his chair, Artemus sighed in relief when Marmie entered the room pushing Aztec in front of her with her head.

The kitten was covered with spider webs and dust bunnies.

He frowned adopting a severe air. "Where have you been little girl?" he asked the mini cat. He picked up the little kitten, wrapping hands around its soft belly and plopped it on the table. As a response Aztec simply licked the side of her face with a tiny pink tongue, purring contentedly. Then, she sat back beside her owner's plate and began to meticulously groom her fur.

Smiling Jim said, "Aztec likes exploring her environment, all the darkest and most inaccessible places especially, but Marmalade is not very far away, keeping an eye on her protégée…"

Looking down at Marmalade Artie saw her stretching, arching her back and flexing her claws. "Good job, Marmie," he said.

Marmalade meowed loudly in pleasure.

WWW

 _Oak Manor Rest Home, later_

Holding a heavy bag with one hand James North (James West) opened the door of his 'aunt's' room with the other one and cast a quick glance inside. "It's lovely, Aunt Artemis," he said. He moved aside to let Artemis McGordon (Artemus Gordon) enter her new home. "What do you think?"

Mrs. McGordon removed her pince-nez glasses and took a look around her. The vast suite had a living room, a small dining room and an adjoining room which had to be the bedroom and with a small bathroom. The walls, the curtains and the carpets were in shades of green and gold. The furniture was dark, carved and adorned here and there with sculpted parts in bronze. "Mmm… it's not bad."

Mr. Jones the Director of the rest home said, "I'm glad you like it Mrs. McGordon. It's the most elegant suite in the house and it's very calm. The windows open onto the park."

Mrs. McGordon pointed at the table. "Put my bag there, James, and be careful my boy, I have fragile souvenirs in that bag." She turned towards the Director. "I read your brochure thoroughly. It gives a long list of activities, like croquet and that new game called badminton, and what I love the most is to have a massage and enjoy then a nice _session_ in the steam room. But I'd like to choose the people doing it. I like strong men, with powerful arms and big hands…"

Jim did his best not to smile. 'Good idea Artie', he thought.

Mr. Jones was chocked and he blushed with embarrassment. "Of course Mrs. McGordon… I can present you to the massage staff. What about tonight, at 0900? There's a session of massage scheduled for the residents at 0915."

Mrs. McGordon smiled. "Excellent, add my name to the list. Now I'd like to be alone with my nephew, if you please. Oh! And don't forget to have all my trunks carried here."

Mr. Jones nodded. "Of course, Mrs. McGordon. I will see you later. Goodbye Mr. North. Our visiting hours will be over at 1800."

James North smiled pleasantly. "Don't worry, I'll leave before that, Mr. Jones. Thank you and goodbye." Then he closed the door and looked at Artemus. He was observing his reflection in a mirror, checking if everything was okay, wig and make-up. "It's a good idea you had about wanting to see the massage staff. So, you think that the assassin is a member of the massage team?"

Sitting on a chair, Artie nodded. "And recently hired I'm sure. With hands like he has… he has to be a very good masseur."

Leaning against the wall, Jim crossed his arms on his chest and said. "And a very good assassin too, don't forget that Artie. It's a good idea to spot him, but you forgot something though. If you let him massage you, he'll know that you are not really a woman. You can hide certain male attributes…"

Artemus chuckled. "I know that. Don't worry, I'll have only my feet and calves massaged nothing more. Besides, women stay clothed during a massage, unlike men, revealing the strict minimum. Oh! I'll hide my gun in my gown, in my false breasts." He stretched like a cat. "I haven't enjoyed a good massage since the last one I had in the Sedgewick hotel and Spa. Do you remember that mission, Jim? The Sedgewick sister and brother were aging rapidly. They were old and useless before 40. Dr. Maitland was doing experiments on people to find a cure for that illness. He almost injected me with his drug."

Moving closer to his best friend, Jim sat on the edge of the table. "Yes, I remember. And I remember that you told me that you almost died in that steam room, steam cooked." He smiled and added, "But, what I remember the most about that mission is your extraordinary talent as a ventriloquist. By the way, where is your marionette? I haven't seen you with 'Chester' for weeks."

Mrs. McGordon nodded and using the voice of an old woman, he replied, "I gave Chester to a ventriloquist in Denver in exchange for books on magic he possessed," Artie said. "They are good books. I learned lots of tricks. I could be a professional magician if I wanted to."

Jim nodded. "You showed your talents as a magician in Zoe's gypsy troupe. Even the resident magician was amazed by your tricks."

Artie smiled. "Yes, I remember. But as I miss using my talent as a ventriloquist, I created Foxy. It's a sock –puppet that looks like a fox with pointy, upright triangular ears, a pointed, slightly upturned snout, and a long bushy tail. He has googly eyes made with buttons and a red mini bandana around its neck. Once we're back in the train I'll give you a private performance."

The clock suddenly struck six times. "It's time for you to leave Jim. But I'm sure you won't be far." He stood up and went to the door. He opened it, and becoming Mrs. McGordon again he said, "Thank you for your help, Jim my boy. See you on Saturday."

Jim nodded. "See you on Saturday Aunt Artemis. Enjoy your massage _session_." Then he left, meeting two nurses in the corridor. He smiled. "Ladies."

WWW

 _Later in the massage room_

Holding her pince-nez glasses close to her face, Mrs. Artemis McGordon observed the six men standing against the wall closely. 'Damn!' she thought. All of them were tall, young, had broad backs and shoulders, short dark hair and big hands. 'Let's see if one of them is left-handed…' "Could you lift your hand please?" she asked and saw a man lift his left hand. She looked at him even more closely and said, "I'm choosing you, young man. You have such big hands…"

Mr. Jones standing beside the door nodded. "Robert, you will take care of Mrs. McGordon. Do remember what I told you." Robert nodded. Mr. Jones added, "Robert applied for this job recently. I hired him immediately because he has powerful hands and the physique to be a masseur. You will be his third client. The two others are delighted with his services."

Mrs. McGordon smiled. 'Good pick! You found him, Artie.' "Oh I'm sure I'll be delighted with his services too, Mr. Jones."

The Director smiled. "There's a changing room here, behind you. The session will start in 5 minutes. I'll see you later, Mrs. McGordon." Then he left the room.

Mrs. McGordon turned toward the man – the assassin. "I just need time to prepare myself." Then she entered the changing room.

Artemus Gordon pulled his Derringer out from his _décolleté_ and took his clothes off, except the petticoat and slipped on a long white gown he had found on a hanger. He slid the small gun up his left sleeve and re-entered the massage room, smiling. "Ah! Young man, I hope you will be gentle with me, I'm an old woman and my bones are fragile and I have a very delicate skin."

Robert nodded. "Don't worry Mrs. McGordon; I'm going to give you a gentle massage. Please lie down on the table and tell me what you want."

Suddenly Artemus Gordon pulled his Derringer out from his sleeve and pointed it at the other man who froze, stunned. "I want you to raise your hands and move to the wall, where you will keep them in sight. Move!" he commanded with his own baritone voice, before removing his wig which he dropped to the floor. "Don't do anything, or I'll shoot you."

Robert more than astonished complied, and then once he had his hands flat on the wall, he realized that Mrs. McGordon was in fact a man disguised as an old woman. "Let me guess, you're an agent of the Secret Service. Good disguise."

Ignoring the assassin's remark, Artie focused on staying conscious. He had a terrible headache and he was having a new dizzy spell. Black points dotted his graying vision. "No, no, not now…" he whispered feeling his knees going weak.

Robert saw that the agent was on the verge of passing out (and didn't care why) from the corner of his eye and knew that the other man's reflexes would be slowed down… He slowly moved his left hand closer to the lever activating the release of the steam, and suddenly lowered it.

Powerful jets of steam were released and clouds of hot, blinding mist invaded the room in a matter of seconds.

Immediately Artie fired as an automatic response. He missed the assassin, the bullet hitting the blue tiled wall but the detonation made him jump and prevented him from fainting.

Glancing around him, Artemus tried to locate the other man, but he couldn't see anything. The hot steam billowing and spiraling everywhere was thicker than fog. "Damn!" he said. A shiver ran along his spine despite sweat dripping from his face.

He gasped in surprise as he felt a strong hand close around his wrist, almost breaking it. Then he cried out in pain and dropped his gun.

He tried to push the assassin away from him but a well-placed punch to his stomach sent him to his knees his face scrunched up in pain, making his eyes water. He managed to take some breaths between harsh coughs. His vision grayed again and he felt a rush of bitter acid flood his mouth before swallowing it.

He cursed.

Grabbing Artemus by his neck, he slammed him against the wall, face first, crushing his nose and lips against the tiles.

Then he pulled the lever up and the release of steam stopped.

He closed his big hands around the agent's neck, squeezing increasingly, compressing Artemus's upper airway, murder in his eyes. "I'm going to kill you," he said, his teeth bared.

Tbc.


	2. Act One part one

**THE NIGHT OF THE DISGUISED ASSASSIN**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT ONE**

 **Part one**

Eyes wide and lips parted, Artemus started to struggle, the rush of blood deafening in his ears. He twisted his body, bucked his hips, arched his back and tossed his head back and forth, his breath coming in harsh pants. His chest was burning, begging for oxygen.

He desperately tried to pry Robert's tight fingers off, and failing that, tried to kick him away, but to no avail. It only resulted in the assassin grasping his neck tighter, crushing the breath out of him.

Chest burning, Artie tried to shove the assassin away but Robert pressed him harder against the wall making him impossible to maneuver and to break free from those hands crushing his windpipe.

He let out a hoarse yelp feeling an excruciating pain as the brute was digging his fingers deeper and deeper into his neck.

He tried to call for help, but only a horse croak left his burning throat.

He tried to contain the fear-filled panic that threatened to submerge him, trying again to buck the assassin off, but he failed, again. Robert was heavier, stronger.

He didn't want to die. And, adrenaline coursing through his veins, tears and sweat streaming down his face he continued struggling.

But he couldn't draw any air.

Robert was snickering. "You can't breathe Federal man, you're going to die."

His brain deprived of oxygen, Artemus's struggles weakened and he stopped thrashing. His vision blurred, tunneled, and started to fade.

Two seconds later Artemus's eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he lost consciousness. His body went limp, a dead weight in Robert's hands.

Passed out Artie sagged against the wall, but Robert pulled him up, with one hand wrapped around his neck, maintaining him upright, pinned against the wall again while the older man was convulsing and letting out gurgling sounds.

Still holding Artie's neck in one vice-like hand, the hulking man closed his other around Artie's windpipe and continued to press on the federal agent's bruised tender flesh, draining the life out of him.

Robert leaned forward, putting even more of his weight on Artemus…

Entering the room in a rush, Jim stopped dead in his tracks, frozen in horror, his heart pounding in fear when he saw the tableau in front of him: a man (the assassin) was strangling his helpless partner, best friend and on top of that surrogate brother.

Robert was suddenly interrupted by a gunshot. He staggered back, freeing Artemus who slumped to the floor and, leaning sideways against the wall, cradled his right arm. It had been pierced through by a bullet.

He pivoted, baring teeth growling like an angry grizzly bear and then he lunged for Jim, hands reaching for his neck.

Keeping his raging urge to kill the assassin at bay, barely, Jim fired a second time, aiming at the faux masseur's left leg this time.

Robert groaned and crumpled down on the floor like a sack of potatoes. Forgetting him, he took Artemus by his arms, dragging him into the corridor, away from the steam and heat.

Feeling suddenly drained, his legs collapsed beneath him. He leaned against the wall and slowly slid down until he was sitting on the floor.

He looked at his partner who, mouth wide open was greedily gulping down precious mouthfuls of air with a horrible wheeze, his chest heaving desperately to breathe life back into himself.

He noticed Artie's face puffed and red, the dark circles under his eyes, the lips, tinged with blue and blood and tears and rivulets of perspiration running in visible paths over smudged make-up. Then he saw the red-angry traces left by the assassin's hand on his swollen neck and his stomach churned. "Oh my God, Artie," he let out as he was slightly nauseated.

He bent his head down, his shoulders sagged, and sighed in immense relief, Artie was still alive. He had saved him, just in time. Focusing on the rise and fall of Artemus's chest moving up and down with his harsh, labored, tortured breathing, he added, "Yes, yes, you're still alive Artie and you're going to be okay…"

He buried his face in his other hand and tears clouded his vision. He scrubbed a hand over his face drenched in sweat. That was close.

Too close.

One minute more and Artie was dead, he thought. He'd never felt so frightened in his whole life. He shook his head, feeling guilty.

If he had come sooner, Artie would have been okay. But he had wasted precious time finding his way to the steam bath room. "I'm sorry Artie," he rasped, voice cracking.

Finally realizing that Artie needed to be rushed to the hospital, James West moved onto one knee and thrusting one arm under his best friend's knees, keeping the other at his back, he lifted Artemus Gordon's unconscious form upward and carried him bridal style toward the hall. "Call an ambulance!" he bellowed, ensuring everyone close by could hear him.

WWW

 _Much later at the U.S. Army hospital, Washington D.C._

President Grant leaned toward Artemus Gordon, grimacing as he saw the purple and blue marks on his neck left by the assassin's hands. "I had several meetings with Senators and Congressmen at the White House and I couldn't be here before…" He trailed off as he stared at the unconscious man he loved like a son, lying on a narrow bed, motionless beneath a white blanket pulled up to his collar bone. He noticed Artemus's pale, slack and expressionless face, and his shadowed eyes. Then he looked up at Dr. Henderson, his personal physician and CMO of the U.S. Army hospital standing beside him. "How is he Stephen?"

Dr. Henderson sighed, visibly concerned. "He's stable, Mr. President, but he hasn't woken up yet. He's insensitive to any stimuli. I tried everything, a loud sound, multiple touches and pinches, I even pricked him with a needle several times, he had no spontaneous reaction…He's in a coma because the _oxygen to his brain_ was cut off for a short time. He might be fine, or be brain damaged. I have no way of knowing how much damage was sustained. Or he might not ever wake up."

Ulysses S. Grant felt all the blood drain from his face. "Oh God, no", he breathed out. He turned to his left and looked at James West sat on a chair in one angle of the room, shoulders slumped. His other best agent was pale, still and quiet, a picture of deep worry – and guilt too. Stephen had told him the whole thing hours ago, he remembered.

Stephen. Henderson glanced at Jim sitting on a chair, completely still, his eyes vacant, in self reproach and said to Grant, "Mr. West has been like this, Sir, prostrated and mute since he brought his partner here. I tried to send him back to the Wanderer, so he can eat and sleep, but he refused to move from his chair. I'm not sure he heard me though…"

President Grant wasn't surprised. Separating the two men was impossible, even more when one of them was injured. "Jim…"

Looking up right at Grant, then at Artemus's neck covered with red welts, in the shape of fingers, Jim swallowed and said, "I'm not leaving him. I need to be here if he wakes up."

Grant nodded. "I know, and I wasn't going to ask you to leave. You saved Artemus's life, Jim, he's still alive because of you. He's the strongest man I know. He'll pull through. And please, stop feeling guilty. It's not your fault if you got lost in the building while Artemus was being… assaulted. The most important thing is that you arrived in time to save your partner."

Not convinced, Jim closed his eyes tightly to shut out the images flooding his mind, of Robert's hands around his best friend's neck, fingers digging into his throat, strangling him. He nodded absently.

Grant furrowed his brow. "It's not your fault," he repeated. "You couldn't possibly anticipate what would happen, so stop thinking about that. Stop blaming yourself. It isn't anyone's fault."

It sounded like an order and Jim replied, "Yes Sir." Grant was right, as always. It wasn't anyone's fault, he thought.

Henderson continued, "It is possible that Artemus is brain-damaged, Sir. We won't know until he opens his eyes, if he opens them. It could be permanent, or take days, weeks, months. There's no way to know. Comas are still very little understood. I'm sorry. But I will do my best, and my nurses too, to take care of him the best we can. I took care of two comatose patients before. I know the medical procedures to keep him alive. Artemus is in good hands and he's a fighter."

His face drawn, the President swallowed hard and took his eyes off of Artie – who was ghostly pale, still and silent, so un-Artie-like and he shuddered. "What happens if he doesn't wake up?" He asked.

Henderson sighed. "I will continue to take care of him, Sir, unless his mother tells me to stop. But there's also the possibility, in this comatose state, that his health will decline rapidly. I will do whatever is necessary to keep him alive, but. I can't guarantee he'll survive." Seeing the long faces of the two other men, he added, "But I'm sure that the worst won't happen. We all know here that Artemus Gordon somehow always succeeds in getting out of the very worst situations." He gently picked up Artie's head and took the pillow. He plumped it then returned it. "This time will be no exception to that rule."

Jim nodded. "Can he hear us?" he asked.

Stephen Henderson nodded and said, "Yes, he can. Patients often recall parts of a conversation once they wake up."

Standing, Jim moved then toward the bed and pressed his unconscious partner's shoulder, half hoping the movement would wake him up. But Artie remained deeply asleep. He sighed. "Artie, listen to me buddy. You have to wake up… I need you. We're a duo, Artemus and Jim, always together… please, wake up for me, because I can't do this without you."

But there showed no sign of waking from the man in the coma. He lowered his head. Jim felt his eyes sting and started fighting tears welling up.

He won.

Ulysses S. Grant sat on the edge of the bed and took Artie's limp hand in his. "I met him once, shortly after the war was declared. He was amongst the volunteers gathered in Galena. I didn't talk to him, but I noticed him. He had an imposing presence… I met him a second time one year later. During the battle of Shiloh, a brave Lieutenant of the 7th Illinois Volunteer Cavalry Regiment specializing in Reconnaissance and counter-reconnaissance screening who saved me from a certain death. His name was Artemus Gordon. He suddenly appeared at my side coming out from nowhere and then darted to a small wood located higher up on the path, on the right. He moved inside at top speed, his gun in hand. Shortly after there was gunfire. After a moment Lieutenant Gordon finally came out of the wood, pursued by two Confederate soldiers who, seeing me, immediately fired at me. My escort got rid of them easily but a third man suddenly came out from behind a bush, right next to me and pointed his gun at me. Artemus rushed toward the man and leaped on him before he had time to shoot. He received the bullet that was meant for me. The Confederate soldier was killed and Artemus was seriously wounded."

Jim was amazed. "I didn't know that, but I'm not surprised he didn't tell me. He's very secretive about his past, it's in his nature, he's a very private man."

Grant nodded. "Yes he is. Artemus killed a dozen men all by himself in that wood. He told me later that he had picked up information about a Confederate ambush in the wood. But as he didn't have time to warn me, he just decided to neutralize them all in order to protect me and my senior officers." He laid Artemus's hand on his chest and added, "He spent two days between life and death, the surgeons saved him but he fell into a coma. Battles were raging around us. The wounded poured in from all sides. The surgeons couldn't take care of Lieutenant Gordon any more, they were too busy. I had him carried under my tent. He was totally unresponsive and unable to drink, or eat anything. I talked to him, for hours… I don't remember about what exactly, probably about great battles of the past, because I love history... thinking that he'dcome back, hearing my voice. I knew that he if didn't wake, he would die. I didn't want him to die." He pushed aside a rebel lock from Artemus forehead and watched for one minute as Artie's chest rose and fell slowly, then he added, "But it didn't work, I was losing him. There was nothing that I could do. He was going to die."

Curious Jim asked, "He obviously didn't. What happened, Sir?"

Grant let out a long sigh feeling helpless again. "I had lost hope of saving him when I heard a man outside my tent bark orders. I went out and saw a sergeant shouting at his men to get them out of their torpor. They were so exhausted they were almost unconscious. As well-trained soldiers they set rank at attention – they obeyed by instinct, without intervention of the will, used to obeying orders. It gave me an idea. I went back inside and with my best commanding voice I said, "Lieutenant Gordon! It's General Grant! Wake up! That's an order! You have to protect me against my enemies! Do your duty son!" The President smiled broadly, his eyes glistening with pleasure. "And it worked! Artemus opened his eyes, saluted and said, 'Yes, Sir; General, Sir. I kept him at my side during his convalescence. Artemus Gordon was a remarkable man – and he still is. I had great affection for him, that's why I kind of… adopted him. He was my aide de camp for a few months. Then as I saw that he needed action again, and with the agreement of President Lincoln, I promoted him to Captain, in the regular army this time so he could stay in the Army after the war. At that time he didn't want to become an actor again after the war, but stay in the Army. And with the agreement of the President too, and because President Lincoln couldn't be there, I gave Artemus his first Medal of Honor in the name of the President."I offered him his own company in his own Regiment. He was a very good officer and he did a wonderful job. I wasn't disappointed." He shook his head sadly. "He lost his whole company a few weeks after, during the battle of Port Gibson… Those who weren't killed in the massacre were the ones stuck in the infirmary before the massacre started, one corporal and one sergeant, a brave soldier called Alvin Murray."

Horrified, Jim asked, "What happened, Sir?"

President Grant sighed. "They all died except Artemus, killed by Confederate shells. It was a massacre. Artemus was the lone survivor. He was injured by shrapnel. He was deeply affected by that tragic loss and during his two months convalescence he was plagued by nightmares each night. When he finally left the infirmary, he stopped eating, he began drinking a lot. He lost his temper, began being aggressive, disrespectful… it lasted months, until 1864. He wasn't the man I knew and loved like a son anymore. I had to do something before I lost him." He added, "That's why I asked Artemus to become a spy. As you know I had a unit to gather intelligence called the Bureau of Military Information, Colonel Sharpe was commanding it. But Artemus Gordon was my _personal spy_ and worked under my direct orders, and no one else, and when he had information, he gave it to me, and no one else. I knew I could trust him completely – and it wasn't the case with the other spies working for the Bureau. Double agents could be amongst them." He paused looking down at Artie – expecting him to react, but the comatose man remained dead to the world. He continued, "Being a spy was something completely different from his former post. Artemus needed change, and a radical one. He accepted eagerly because he wouldn't have to command men anymore, because he wouldn't have to suffer again the pain of losing themwhich he knew would happen eventually, and it gave him the opportunity to disguise himself and to use his talent as a former actor. He accepted it too to serve his country of course and to protect me…and he did a formidable job."

Jim nodded. "I know, battles were won thanks to the information he gathered and pass to you, Sir. He saved hundreds of lives."

Former General Grant nodded. "Yes he did and he saved my life at the siege of Petersburg, twice! But you know that, you were there. I had him promoted to Major after that assassin entered my tent at night. And he received his second Medal of Honor."

Proud of his partner's exploits, Jim nodded. "Yes, I remember, Sir."

The President looked at James West and smiled. "And I had you promoted too, Jim. Because you saved the life of many innocent people at Appomattox."

Pleased, Jim smiled. "Yes, Sir, and before Artie and I did our first mission together. It was the first time I was his partner. But the mission was a total disaster."

Grant rubbed his temple tiredly and added, "His last mission with his former partner was a total disaster too. After a few weeks working solo, I decided to give Artemus a partner – to gather even more information. He chose one of his best friends, a man called Barney Finn. But Finn decided to become a turncoat during the Chattanooga Campaign and Artemus almost died then…" He looked back at Artie, his brow furrowed and suddenly his blue eyes lit up as a brilliant idea came to his mind. "What I did that day in my tent to wake him up from his coma, could work again," he said.

Henderson nodded. "That's a very good idea, Sir."

Ulysses S. Grant stood up and using his deep and resounding voice, he commanded, "Major Gordon! It's your President speaking! Wake up! I need you! You need to protect me against my many enemies! Do your duty Major!"

But there was no reaction from the comatose patient.

Leaning toward Artie, Grant repeated, "Major Gordon! It's your President speaking! Wake up! Come on, Major, I know you can hear me!"

A few seconds later, Artemus moved slightly in his sleep and his hand twitched a few times. Henderson smiled, pleased at the first signs of waking. "Please, repeat it, Sir!" he said.

Grant repeated what he had just said. Then, Artemus's eyelids flickered and he parted his lips to let out of weak moan.

Stephen Henderson looked down at his patient, more than astonished. "He's waking up!" he said. "That's incredible! Talk to him Mr. President! Go on! Don't stop!"

Grinning with intense joy Jim took Artie's hand in his and squeezed it. "Yes, it worked, and it's working again, Mr. President", he said. He shook Artie's arm. "Come back buddy!"

Ulysses S. Grant nodded and scrunched up his eyebrows tight. He ordered with his deep voice. "Major Gordon! Wake up! Wake up damnit! That's an order. I won't say this twice!"

Major Artemus Gordon opened his eyes in the dim lights of the infirmary and stared upward at the ceiling, bleary-eyed and unfocused.

He heard the President's voice. "Artemus?"

He blinked a few times to clear his fuzzy vision – and to make his way back to reality and turning his head in the direction of the voice his gaze landed on Grant's worried bearded face, and he lifted his hand up, slowly, to salute.

He wanted to say something but let out an incomprehensible whisper-croak instead. He coughed, then winced at the scratchy pain it caused his throat as he moved his hand to his bruised and battered neck and grimaced in pain.

Grant beamed, his blue eyes were shining with unshed tears. Tears of joy. "Very good Major," he said before pressing Artie's hand in his and beginning to rub his thumb reassuringly against the back of his hand. "You're safe, relax son."

Overjoyed, ecstatic, grinning from ear to ear through his tears, Jim said, "You're awake! I can't believe you're awake, no, no, no, yes I can. I can! Welcome back, Artie! You're going to be all right, everything's going to be all right."

Dr. Henderson brought the glass of water by the bed to his patient's lips. "Take small sips, Artemus, slowly. Your throat is going to burn," he said. Artie took a few sips and winced but it momentarily soothed his aching throat so he sighed in pleasure. He tried to say something but nothing came out, not even the hoarse sound. "Don't say anything. Your larynx is badly bruised and you won't be able to talk for a few days, then your throat will be sore for weeks after that. But fortunately your vocal cords didn't suffer any permanent damage. You're going to be mute for a few days, then it will pass. I'm going to give you pain medication so you should be fine." He put the glass back down.

Immensely relieved that Artemus was back and proud of his idea – that worked, again - Grant grinned and ran his left hand through Artie's already mussed and ruffled hair. "I'm glad you're back with us, son. You're still alive. Jim arrived just in time to save your life."

Eyes widening in terror, Artie remembered everything in a flash and images flashed before his eyes as he thought about what had happened.

He couldn't help but tremble his breath coming out in harsh pants, gasping like a fish out of water, unable to focus his vision. The room and people were spinning.

He was having a panic attack.

Instantly Dr. Henderson sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed Artie's shoulders in his hands, "It's over! You're fine, you're safe. Artemus, look at me. You need to calm down. Take deep, even breaths. Breathe, slowly. Breathe, breathe, he said. His voice was quiet and calm.

But Artemus continued to hyperventilate as he was reliving his strangulation in his mind, staring, blinking at an invisible spot on the wall, behind the physician.

Grant intervened. He gently pushed Henderson to the side, took his place, sitting beside Artie and pulled him in his arms in a paternal hug.

He rubbed small soothing circles in Artemus's stiff back. "It's alright, Artemus, you're safe, calm down. You're having a panic attack, but it won't last. Breathe…"

Closing his arms around the President, Artemus swallowed his hiccups little by little, trying to get his breathing under control. Then, once it was done, holding Grant tightly he started sobbing, his head resting on the older man's shoulder, his body shaking violently.

Grant gave a nod to a deeply alarmed Jim and briefly closed his eyes, signaling that way that it was going to be alright. "It's going to be alright," he said, insisting on it. "Crying is usually the final stage of a panic attack," he added as the sobbing continued. "Just let it all out, Artemus, it will do you some good." He dropped his voice down to a whisper. "I'm here, I'm here."

Minutes passed as Artie rode his panic attack out, pressed against Grant's chest, focusing on his deep and soothing voice, the President encouraging him to calm down, to breathe slowly, telling him that crying was good for him, that he was here for him and always would be.

It worked.

Grant pulled back, but kept a grip on Artemus's shoulders with gentle pressure. "It's over, Artemus," he said with a comforting smile.

Finally Artie pulled back his arms from the President and moving back, he covered his tears-wet face with the sleeve of his white pajamas top.

He took a deep breath, his cheeks grew red and let it slowly out. "I'm sorry," he said but no sound came out from his mouth. So he mouthed it.

Grant smiled warmly. "There's no need to be," he replied softly. "It's a perfectly normal reaction after what happened to you. Not reacting at all would have worried me. Now it's over, son. What matters is that you're still alive and safe."

Nodding, Artie, voiceless, said a mute 'thank you, Sir.' Then he turned toward Jim who was mopping his tears of joy with his sleeve, still pale under his stubble, but looking immensely happy. He smiled weakly and said another mute. 'Thank you, Jim.'

Relieved that Artie felt better, Jim smiled. "It was a pleasure."

Spotting a bloc of paper and a pen on the table, he pointed at them.

Henderson handed them to his patient and read what he was writing, "The last time… I had a panic… attack was… after… my father died." He paused as Artemus wrote more words. "I don't know why I… had another one, because… I usually cope very… well with anything. Even… the horrible things that happened to me… during the war and even after… didn't provoke that reaction." He waited for a few seconds and said, "I had nightmares… but not any panic attacks."

Henderson nodded. "Maybe fatigue is responsible. Your usual coping mechanism was altered and the 'dam' broke." He snapped his fingers twice. "I forgot something important. You were seriously injured after your last mission: a few broken ribs and a severe concussion – provoking dizzy spells and a fuzzy mind. You were weakened – mind and body, and still are. That explains why you reacted that way."

Looking up at the President, new tears beginning to gather in the corners of his eyes, shoulders tensed, Artie mouthed, "Don't fire me from the Secret Service, please." He paused, breath shaky and then added, "It won't happen again, I swear."

Then as Grant didn't understand everything, he transferred his words on the paper. Then he showed the page to the POTUS.

Grant frowned, puzzled. "Why are you telling me this? I don't understand."

Using his pen, Artie replied, "Because it could happen during a mission and I could put lives in danger other than mine, Jim's life included, by being paralyzed by fear. Because of my emotions, which can be uncontrolled, I am a liability." Grant read.

Grant chuckled and Artemus was stunned by his reaction. The President explained, "First, if this kind of reaction happened again, your partner ever present at your side would take care of the situation, and I'm sure that would be done quickly and well, so the problem is solved. Second, I would never take action against an emotion-driven man like you are, because your emotions are a strength, an advantage, not a weakness. Sometimes they can be a handicap, I agree, but it remains relatively minor. Reacting emotionally saved me several times during the war and during the presidency, Artemus, and I wouldn't be here without that. Not to mention the times you used your emotions to save my life, to save Jim's life and many others lives. Third, it wouldn't be in my best interest to fire one of my best agents." He paused, to give Artie a comforting smile. "I will never fire you. You are irreplaceable, and if I did, Jim would resign in the second that would follow, and I don't want to lose my two best agents."

A smile coming to his lips Artemus felt his tension melting away. "Thank you Mr. President," he mouthed, immensely relieved.

Smiling too, Jim nodded. "I would resign a split second later," he said.

The President stood up and said, "Robert Jenkins is now behind bars thanks to you gentlemen. And you both deserve a commendation for that – and two weeks of medical leave. Mr. West you will keep an eye on your partner here. I'm counting on you."

Jim nodded. "Yes, Sir." Then he looked down at his best friend brow creased and with a worried expression. "You okay buddy?"

Smiling, Artemus nodded. "Now yes, thanks to the President," he mouthed.

Colonel Henderson smiled and said, "I'm ordering you to spend those two weeks in a spa resort Mr. Gordon. My preference goes to the town of Hot Springs in the Rockies, located in the Valley of hot springs. It's an oasis of calm. I spent a few weeks there after the war so I could rest."

Artie nodded, mopping already half-dried tears with the back of his hand. "I always wanted to visit a spa, but never had the time and opportunity to," he wrote and showed the page to the others.

Henderson nodded. "This time you will. That spa resort is offering individual tub baths, public steam baths and mud baths and showers. Drinking the warm, carbonated spring water will do good to your throat Artemus, and the mud baths will produce a feeling of deep relaxation that helps to reduce stress, and as that special mud is mixed with bromine salt water it has anti-inflammatory and analgesic properties, and it will help your ribs to heal too." Turning toward Jim he added, "If you are afraid of getting bored, the resort offers diverse activities like swimming, fishing, hunting, and horseback riding and even dancing."

Frowning Artemus let out a near silent, frustrated huff. He wanted to say "I'd like to do that too, I'm not an invalid, I just can't talk" but his bruised larynx prevented him from speaking. And he was beginning to be bored writing down what he wanted to say.

He had a sudden idea: if he couldn't use the spoken language, he'd use the sign language he had learned at the National Deaf-Mute College in Washington D.C. during the war to add to his spy skills, so that if he became unable to speak, he could still transmit information - sign language he had taught to Jim so they could communicate in silence during missions. He had learned to read lips too, that was another of his numerous talents.

He abandoned the bloc of paper and the pen on the bedside table and snapped his fingers to get Jim attention and then started using his hands to say, "I'd like to do that too, I'm not an invalid. I just can't talk – I mean the usual way."

Frowning Jim said, "Slow down Artie, I'm a bit rusty… We haven't used sign language for months." And watched Artemus repeat in ASL what he had just signed, slowly.

Then he smiled seeing Grant's and Henderson's stunned faces.

President Grant blinked twice. "What…?" Then he remembered that Artemus had learned American Sign Language during the war because he needed a way to communicate in case he lost his voice. And that was the case here, he thought.

Smiling, Jim said, "Artie just said, "I'd like to do that too, I'm not an invalid. I just can't talk – I mean the usual way." He used sign language… "and that's a very good idea, Artie." Looking back at Henderson who looked fascinated, he added, "Artie taught me sign language so we could use it when needed during a mission. He can read lips too."

Smiling, Artie looked up at Grant and signed, "At your service, General!" and then he saluted. He added, "I woke up Sir. I obeyed your order, Sir."

And Jim translated.

President Grant saluted in response. "As you were, Major."

Frowning, curious, Jim asked, "So you heard the General… I mean the President when he ordered you to wake up?"

Reading Jim's lips, Artie responded, signing again, his hands moving with precision, slowly, "Yes. I did. Since I woke up 'in a coma' here. I couldn't move, see anything or talk but I could hear everything. That was terrible, awful. But you were here, and I was sure that somehow, you would help me to leave my comatose state, and I was right. I instinctively reacted to your order, like I did the first time I fell into a coma, at Shiloh. How long was I absent?"

Jim repeated what Artie had just signed.

Henderson responded, "12 hours, more or less. It was the shortest coma I've had to witness, and I'm glad it lasted only 12 hours."

Grant shook his head in amazement. "You will never cease to amaze me, Artemus." He smiled. "That's settled then, the two of you will head toward Hot Springs, as soon as Dr. Henderson releases his patient. I'll see you later back in Washington" He patted Artie's shoulder with affection. "Enjoy your stay, Artemus. And try to stay away from trouble, alright?"

Artie nodded and signed, "I'll do my best Mr. President." That Jim immediately translated, then his head lolled to the side as he was drifting off into sleep.

Henderson shook Artie's hand and the other man let out a croaky sound.

The CMO smiled, relieved. His patient wasn't going back to his comatose state, but was falling asleep. "Sleep tight," he said.

President Grant finally said, "Jim, I want you to mother-hen your partner. Take good care of him." Then he thought : 'I'm going to tell Richmond to send Jeremy Pike to Hot Springs as a discreet back up, just in case. Those two men seem to attract trouble wherever they go – while on leave included.'

Dr. Henderson said, "There's something I forgot to tell you, Artemus. You won't be able to eat solid food for at least a week."

Horrified, Artemus just gaped at the physician.

Tbc.


	3. Act One part two

**THE NIGHT OF THE DISGUISED ASSASSIN**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT ONE**

 **Part two**

 _The next evening, the Wanderer_

 _Galley_

Hearing a soft meow, Artie looked down at Aztec, butting her head against the bottom of his pants. "Hello there my little girl," he mouthed. He scooped up the kitten and settled it on the small table where he was peeling potatoes for dinner. "Where have you been this time?" he asked silently. Lowering his head toward the baby cat, noticing tawny and black hairs on the baby cat's gray coat, and silent, he proposed, "Oh, I know, You had a long nap with mommy Marmalade and brother AG, right?"

Moving her tiny tail from right to left and left to right, Aztec batted a paw at her owner's lips. They were moving but she couldn't hear anything. "Mew?" She let out, tilting her head to the side in an interrogative way.

Smiling, Artie brushed the kitten's tiny nose with the tip of his finger. "My larynx is badly bruised and I'm not going to be able to talk for a few days," he explained mutely.

Meowing, Aztec rubbed her head against Artie's chin, then she sprawled across the table, belly up, demanding belly rubs.

Smiling, Artie dropped his knife on top of the pile of peelings then gave her the requested belly-rubs and Aztec purred in contentment.

Looking up he saw Jim enter the room and waved at him. "I'm preparing dinner, something special, I never tried to make or eat," he signed.

Frowning, Jim poured a cup of fresh, hot, coffee for them both and carried it back to join his companion. "What is it?"

Taking the steaming mug, Artemus mouthed, "Thanks," then he took a sip before placing it on the table. He signed, "I'm going to make…" He froze, not finding the right signs, so he moved toward the counter, took the pen and paper sheet there, where he had written down the ingredients he needed for the recipes. He wrote 'Filet de boeuf forestière with Bordelaise sauce and petit gratin Dauphinois' then showed it to his partner. "It's going to be delicious," he mouthed. Then he made a face, disappointed. "It's for you, not for me." He pointed at the pan settled on the stove and signed, "It's soup, for me, a simple soup, it's a butternut squash velouté. I made it with one butternut squash, two shallots, one tablespoon olive oil, a little of poultry broth, a glass of of fresh cream, a table spoon of nut oil, and I seasoned my soup with garlic, a pinch of salt and black pepper and a little nutmeg too."

Jim lifted the lid of the pan and the delicious smell of the orange-colored 'velouté' enveloped him "Even your 'simple' soup is a work of art. Mmmm…" then, petting Aztec's fur covered belly in his turn, Jim said, "I know, I'm sorry. But I'm sure that soup is delicious too, buddy." He patted Artie's shoulder soothingly. "Don't be sad. The swelling of your throat will disappear, it's a matter of time. You will be able to eat that 'French menu' too, soon."

He chuckled when Aztec started pawing its tiny little claws at his forearm, scratching at his blue bolero jacket sleeve. "Aw! She's adorable!"

WWW

 _A week later in Hot Springs_

Once the carriage had left, Jim and Artie holding a big bag each stopped in front of the large wrought iron gate giving access to the different buildings of the spa.

The older man took out the brochure he had in the pocket of his fringed jacket and opened it. He knew it by heart, but just to be sure he rapidly memorized the map and looked in front of him again. The main building was a large neoclassical style, two-storey central building, with smaller structures surrounding it: the bathhouses. They formed a semicircle or U-shape around the main building with formal entrances, outdoor fountains, promenades and other landscape-architectural features.

Smiling Artie headed toward the main cream-colored brick building, Jim in tow. "It's so beautiful and so peaceful," he said, with a thin and scratchy voice.

He earned a disapproval frown from Jim, concern marking every line of his face. "Shh, Artie. You shouldn't be talking."

Smiling reassuringly, Artemus waved his hand at his own neck continued, "I'm fine, Jim. I will rest my throat, I promise."

Giving his partner a pointed look, he asked, "You promise?"

Smiling again but with an eye roll this time, Artemus replied, "Yes, I promise. And I thought Grant was the mother-henning one." He paused and continued, "You know there are 51 hot springs in the Valley of hot springs and in local Indian mythology…"

Furrowing his brow Jim gave Artie a long look. "You promised."

Artie chuckled. "Later." He continued, "In local Indian mythology the Valley of the hot springs where the town of Hot Springs is located is considered a healing place." He pointed at the outdoor fountains and continued, "in each Spa of the valley, visitors are welcome to bottle the spring water for personal consumption. The springs are famous for their varied and distinct tastes: some are clear freshwater, others are saltier, and some taste strongly of sodium bicarbonate or sodium chloride."

Frowning, upset, Jim said, "I thought you wanted to rest your throat Artie? You promised."

Patting his best friend's shoulder soothingly, Artemus replied, "Once I'm a patient here, yes. Not before." He pointed at the outlying structures forming a semicircle. "They are individual cabins, and the other buildings are storage rooms and stables for the horses." He then pointed at another large building on the other side of the street. "And this is an asylum. It's not part of the spa, of course, but doctors working there bring some of their patients to the spa to help them relax."

It looked like a prison, Jim thought, with high grey walls and barred windows, he was expecting armed guards on each side of the large metallic door.

He chuckled. "You know the place better than the staff itself, Artie." He placed a hand on his best friend's shoulder. "Let's go register."

WWW

 _Later_

Once their names were registered at reception the two men headed to their cabin and settled into their twin bedroom.

With that done, they decided to go to the bath house. Like the Ancient Roman public baths (thermae), the place had a pool of cold water, a pool of warm water and a pool of hot bubbling water, a mud bath and a swimming pool. It also had a massage parlor, a smoking room, a library and a restaurant. And, to finish, the complex had gymns where wrestling and boxing were practiced.

They stripped off their clothes in changing booths and exchanged them for a long bathing sheet that was provided (along with a large bath towel) and folded on a shelf and both headed toward the main hot spring bath (men only). The place was sizzling hot and the air was thick with the billowing steam surging from the heated water. They were drenched in sweat within seconds.

Cringing, Jim said, "I'm going to be steam-cooked."

Chuckling Artie rubbed slowly across his painful chest still aching from two cracked ribs he kept tightly covered with compression wraps — elastic hydrophobic bandages (he had invented so he could take a shower or bath without having to remove them). "Lobster like. Let's find an empty deck chair."

The wide, multi-leveled, blue tiled-pool occupied the center of a rotunda which was lit by the sun passing through an immense dome of colored glass which was supported by immense white marble columns topped with Doric capitals covered with gold. There was a large mosaic showing dolphins jumping above waves at the bottom of the pool and green marble covered the floor.

People were sitting on the edges of white grainy stone (to avoid slipping), water reaching their knees, conversing in a low voice, as others were sitting on a submerged bench, half out of the water drinking tea or coffee and others were submerged up to their shoulders doing physical exercises: moving legs and arms while grimacing with pain. Other people were swimming or floated on the surface of the deeper part of the pool, motionless, spread eagled.

Smiling Artie said, "It's perfect, just what my old cracked ribs need." He took off the long bathing sheet that was wrapped around his waist and torso, toga-like and tossed it over to the nearest deck chair along with the folded towel he had slid under his arm.

Then completely nude, he dipped into the steaming hot spring until the water reached his collarbones. He let out a deep happy sigh, reveling in the heat of the clear mineral-rich water getting into his 'old' bones. "Oh boy! That feels great," he said, with a blissful smile, his voice hoarse, his pale cheeks flushed from the heat, his expression one of pure bliss.

Following suit, Jim stripped off his own bathing sheet and placed it along with the bath towel on a free deck chair before sliding into the lightly bubbling water, up to his neck, giving a contented sigh as he leaned back against the edge of the pool, stretching his arms out to the sides. "This is very nice. What kind of water is it Artie? What does it do?"

Cupping water in his hand, Artie said, "This water comes from a sodium chloride spring, that's why. It has very interesting therapeutic effects, like sodium chloride also known as salt, that's why. Mineral springs naturally rich in sodium chloride are beneficial for rheumatic conditions, arthritis… etc." Seeing Jim's almost insolent smile, he huffed and added, "I don't have arthritis, just cracked bones. I'm not that old."

Shortly after, they were soaking in the steaming water, in companionable silence, feeling their naked bodies relax, not thinking, their brains taking a break.

Half an hour later, they swam a little and then headed back toward the edge of the large pool, leaning back against the edge, feeling lightheaded and sleepy.

Relaxed, eyes closed, Artemus drew a deep breath and said, "The last time I was naked in a hot pool, was 8 months ago, when I was staying with the Crows, but it was a natural one, not a man-built one. They have a natural spring with warm water above body temperature."

Placing a finger in front of his lips, Jim said, "No talking. You need to rest your throat Artie. So shhh. You promised."

Smiling Artie nodded.

Looking at his best friend's peaceful face, hot water lapping at their naked shoulders, Jim smirked and curiosity-driven he couldn't help but ask, "Let me guess, you were in good company, with White Crow, right?"

Opening one eye, Artemus grinned at his best friend, "I'm not talking," he signed. Then he slid underwater to tease Jim, letting bubbles escape his mouth like a child.

Grabbing the other man's arm, Jim pulled him up. When Artie emerged, water cascading down his face, flattening his hair on his scalp, he commanded, "Talk!"

Using his fingers to comb his wet hair back, Artie said, "Yes, it was White Crow. I miss her, a lot. I miss her very much, so much that on my next leave I will return to her band and spend those few days at her side. she asked me to come back to her."

Closing his eyes too, feeling his muscles loosening, Jim added, "You love White Crow." and then he sank deeper into the hot water, that simple movement making miniature whirlwinds in the thin mist of steam floating on the surface.

Closing his opened eye, Artie nodded. "More than that, I'm in love with her. I have known many women in my life, I have loved many, but none of them can be compared to White Crow." He sighed. "She's special, she's different… I miss her, Jim, so much," he ended.

Jim nodded. "I know buddy. Speaking of leave, we have a one week's leave scheduled at the end of the month, remember. I'm going to spend it alone I guess?"

Eyes shining with joy, Artie said, "Really? I had forgotten that! That's good news." He placed a friendly hand on Jim's shoulder. "Come with me."

Shaking his head, Jim said, "No, thanks." He patted Artie's arm. "I know that we spend our leaves together, but not this time. It's not because I don't like the Crows, they're admirable people and I like them all, but you need to enjoy your stay there, alone. If I was at your side, I would be a distraction, reminding you of work, of our partnership, of our next assignment… and you need to be totally immersed in the band's life, to be Strong Bear, in order to be able to fully rest… with White Crow at your side."

Pressing Jim's shoulder with affection, Artie smiled. "Thank you Jim, you're the best friend a man can have," he said. Eyes gleaming with mischief, he added, "You know, the last time I had a splash fight was ages ago… in that river in Colorado." He splashed some water in Jim's direction.

Smiling, Jim said, "I won it, but not here buddy and not now. There are a lot of people here. Most of them would not appreciate it. Later, we'll find a way to be together, alone."

Smiling too, Artie said, "Okay, not here but later then." Then he sank nose deep into the water, then sunk deeper, disappearing under the surface.

WWW

The two men hauled themselves out of the hot spring water before they toweled themselves dry. They wrapped their naked bodies in the bathing sheets and after that settled in one of the private enclosures defined by white painted screens.

Feeling limp and boneless, Artie slumped in a deck chair and closed his eyes. He was already dozing off when in his turn, Jim took his place on a deck chair.

Seeing a man holding drinks Jim raised his hands. "Over here!"

The waiter came over to them and said, "I have some fruit juices sirs. I have orange juice, strawberry juice, raspberry juice, carrot juice and apple juice."

Jim took two glasses of apple juice from the tray, said, "thanks" and handed one to Artie, watching the waiter leave for other customers. "My last leave with you wasn't so nice, Artie," he said watching other people swimming in the hot bath. He finally noticed that Artie was sleeping peacefully, his head resting on his shoulder, the bath towel circling his neck serving as a pillow. "Sleep well buddy." He gulped down the two glasses of apple juice and put them on the small table placed between the two deck chairs. He suddenly spotted another waiter holding a tray loaded with sandwiches on the other side of the pool. "Mmmmm… sandwiches, God! I'm famished! Stay here buddy, don't move, I won't be long," he added before standing up, forgetting that Artie was sleeping, and he left, his stomach rumbling.

Turning his back to his partner, Jim didn't notice a giant pushing a wheelchair with a diminutive man sitting inside, stop beside the deck chair occupied by his partner.

Miguelito Loveless watched Artemus sleeping soundly and grinned. "What a delightful surprise! Artemus Gordon. If he's here, Mr. West is probably not very far. Voltaire, can you see Mr. West?"

The big man rapidly spotted Jim on the other side of the pool talking to a waiter and pointed at him. "Yes, Doctor, he's over there, taking sandwiches from a tray."

Loveless nodded. "Let's get out of here before he sees us. I want to keep my presence here a secret, until I reveal myself – just before capturing them. I'm going to need some help. I don't know how I will kill them, but I'll find a very special way to… "He suddenly clapped his hands, his eyes gleaming with evil intent. "I've just had a marvelous idea; I know how to get rid of Senator Paulson, Voltaire. Mr. Gordon will be my assassin – a disguised and unwilling assassin."

He grinned hugely.

WWW

 _In the evening_

Eying the hot mud bath suspiciously Jim hesitated before going down to the pool. Artie, as for him was already half-immersed in the hot dark brown lightly steaming mud steaming lightly, smiling, totally relaxed. "The last time I took a mud bath, someone tried to drown me in it," he said, unwrapping himself from the long bathing sheet he was enveloped in.

He dropped it on a bench where it joined Artie's and a bit worried, he asked. "Why did you remove the bandages from around your chest Artemus? You shouldn't have."

Looking up at his partner still on the edge of the mud bath, Artie said, "They were dirty and I forgot to bring new ones. Don't worry, the healing is almost complete now, I'm going to be fine."

He looked around him, admiring the Greek Ionic columns of white marble, the red tiles covering the walls lit by torches which crackled and flickered in the dim light. The cupola was simpler here, and smaller, built in concrete and covered with a vast colored mosaic showing Neptune holding his trident, aboard his chariot pulled by hippocampus.

Drawing circles at the semi-solid surface with his forefinger, Artie nodded. "I remember that mission. I almost froze to death in that feathered coat. My skin was blue. But we're alone here, Jim, there's no risk. All the customers are in the dining room. We have the place to ourselves. We'll eat later. Come on, buddy," he said." He started to cover his arms and shoulders with the warm, smooth, slippery mud, chuckled and continued, "My mother used to scold me when I stained my clothes with mud when I was a boy. I loved playing in the rain, digging with my hands in the muddy ground to build channels and dams with pebbles and small branches. You know, the mud bath treatment has been used for centuries to relieve muscular aches and pains like arthritis, and like Dr. Henderson said, it produces a feeling of deep relaxation that helps to reduce stress. It has relaxing and revitalizing properties too and it's proven to be helpful with skin disorders. Do you know that the mud here is a combination of salt water and local volcanic ash. Hot springs mud is taken from the area where natural thermal hot springs are found, like here, in… Hot Springs." He let out a long breath, relaxing his body.

Smiling Jim asked, "Is there any subject you don't know anything about Artie? You're like a walking encyclopedia."

His hand coming up to rub his chin, leaving mud lines on it, Artie replied a few seconds later, "Mmm… no. I read a lot of books and encyclopedias on everything, and I still do, as well as scientific papers." He lowered his hand to the surface of the mud, drawing circles there and watched Jim strip off his towel from around his waist. "On second thought, there's a domain in which I have gaps: women. A lot of things puzzle me like how they can talk for hours about little things such as bouquets of flowers or the color and motifs of a fabric, and I'm amazed – and a bit envious – at how they can do several things at the same time, while most men are incapable of it, and there's another thing I don't understand: why they always gravitate around you - and ignore me, with, fortunately, some exceptions to the rule."

Smiling, Jim lowered his naked body into the warm mud and smiled as he submerged to his neck, bubbles heaping up to his shoulders. "Some? Oh come on! You're exaggerating, Artie. You're a magnet to women too, but I have to admit that there are more women who gravitate around me while on a mission than around you – don't ask me why, I don't know - but when in Washington, it's the contrary. I bet you know all the lovely women in the Capital. " He joined his best friend in the middle of the pool letting the tension in his body work itself out and said, "I thought you were not jealous, Artie."

Sighing Artemus shook his head. "I'm not. I don't know what jealousy is. But I'd like to know – I mean scientifically speaking – why do you always have lots of women - around you when we are on an assignment, and I… well, cats."

Smiling mischievously, Jim responded. "Maybe because I am a women magnet and you a cat magnet; Artie, besides, women don't like 'old men'… By the way, you never told me you had problems with your arthritis, _old man_ …"

Frowning in mock outrage, Artie scooped up a handful of mud and smeared it all over his best friend's face. "Be respectful of the elderly, young man! I'm older than you yes, 15 years older to be exact, but I'm not an old man, not yet!" Then, with a mischievous grin, he splashed mud outward at his partner. "I don't have arthritis by the way. Otherwise I'd be sitting behind a desk in Washington." Having said that, he sank below the surface to emerge seconds later, up to his shoulders, mud dripping, and then eyes closed, he wiped it from his face. "Boy! That feels so good!" he let out.

Seizing the opportunity, and withy a wicked grin, Jim pressed on Artie's head and tried to push him beneath the surface. Artemus resisted, pushing Jim back into the mud, leaving muddy handprints on the younger man's face and neck.

Smiling Artie proposed, "Mud bath wrestling Jim? What are you, 6? Okay. I'm in. I'm heavier, I'm stronger, I'm going to win. The first who finds himself with his back against the edge of the pool has lost and will pay for all the drinks till the end of our stay here!"

Jim smiled. "Deal." And his smiled vanished when a giant mud ball hit him square on the head. "Who is 6 now?" he asked, wiping the sticky substance from his eye.

A wide, mischievous grin splitting his face, Artie grabbed another fist full of the mud. "It wasn't me!" he said, feigning innocence, then he erupted into giggles. "I wanted a water splash fight, but we can have a mud splash fight, it's far better!"

Narrowing his eyes Jim scooped up a handful of bubbly mud in his turn and said, his voice low with playful menace, "Drop your weapon! Or I'm going to make you pay for that."

But Artie didn't and sticking his tongue out at his best friend, he threw his mud-projectile straight in his partner's face.

It hit Jim squarely in the face, with a splat.

Artie giggled childishly. "I'm the fastest mud-slinger in the whole country," he said. "You're no match for me, James West."

Dark brown mud dripping from his eyebrows, nose, lips and chin, Jim reached one hand up to wipe away the thick mud.

He splashed Artie back, right in the face. "You want a mud-splash fight Artie? Then you're going to have a mud-splash-battle." Then they started an all-out mud splash battle, laughing, chasing each other.

Finally, after a moment, without any warning Jim lunged at Artemus, catching both his arms and raising them above his head, knocking him off-balance after that so that the older man landed flat on his back in the pool of mud with a huge splash.

Then he flipped Artie like a crepe, effortlessly, and pushed his face into the mud.

Lifting his head, chuckling, Artie spat out the mud he had in his mouth and forced his right elbow up into Jim's side and managed to break free. "Not bad," he commented.

Facing each other, wet streaks of mud slithering down their hair and cheeks and dripping from their chins, the two men measured their strength, trying to push back the other and after a while Jim managed to make Artie take a step back. "Who's the stronger Artie?" he asked.

Chuckling, Artie sent a handful of mud directly into his best friend's eyes. "Okay, you won that fight, but I can win the mud-splashing battle."

Smiling, Jim wiped the mud out of his eyes and shot a handful of mud at Artie – who dodged it and splashed Jim back.

For a couple of minutes the two men threw mud at each other laughing and cackling with glee like two young boys.

Suddenly pausing, Jim frowned in concern as he saw Artie touch the back of his head, wincing. "Artie? You alright?"

The older man shook his head. "Owww! No. My head hurts…" He moved back hurriedly, half walking, half swimming. Dark spots danced before his eyes. "No, no, no. Jim… I'm going to… I need to…dizzy spell… I can't pass out here… drown… mud… disorientation…" He reached the edge of the pool and turned unfocused eyes in Jim's direction. "Jim? Help…me."

His body turned numb and the room began to spin around him. Suddenly, the world turned black and his knees buckled, causing him to slide down the wall of the pool, slowly sinking into the mud.

Swimming at top speed Jim was at Artie's side in no time. He lunged forward, caught the other man around his waist, holding him upright. "I've got you Artie, I've got you. You're safe buddy." Artie flopped against him. "You're safe."

Miguelito Loveless made his entrance, sitting in a wheelchair pushed by Voltaire with three goons in tow each holding a gun hidden beneath a towel. "No, he's not safe, and you're not safe either", he said, coldly. He lifted the blanket covering his legs and pointed a revolver at James West. "Is something wrong with Mr. Gordon? Is it why you're here?"

Jim shook his head, muddy hair sticking to the back of his neck. "It's a long story Loveless and I'm not going to tell you what happened." He hoisted Artemus onto the edge of the pool, the excess of dark brown mud sliding down his limp body, and took his pulse finding it rapid and erratic. His breathing was ragged as if he had run a marathon.

His face contorted with distaste, Loveless gestured toward the cubicles with douche sprays lining the wall. "Get rid of all that disgusting and revolting mud, in the meantime Garrett here will fetch your belongings." He snapped his fingers and one of the goons headed toward the door.

Completely covered in mud, Jim threw Artie (covered, from head to toe, in wet mud) over his shoulder and carried him into one of the cubicles.

Kneeling beside Artie, slumped against the tiled wall; he lowered a lever and hot water sprayed from several jets, both above and at the sides. Soon they were both 'clean' again.

Using the bath towels he found on a table, Jim quickly toweled himself dry and then did the same thing to his best friend, still passed out.

Loveless drummed his fingers impatiently on the arm of his wheelchair, still holding a gun in his other hand pointing it at West. "Wake your partner Mr. West; I'm not going to stay here all night. I'm a very busy man. I have many things to attend to."

Jim stopped the jets and tapped Artie's cheeks with one hand, slapping him gently back and forth. "Come on buddy, wake up. Artie!"

Moaning, Artemus opened his eyes and blinked tiredly at his partner. "Hey, Jim! What hap…?" He trailed off noticing Voltaire towering Loveless who was sitting in a wheelchair framed between two men holding guns. He sighed and gave a small salute. "Dr. Loveless, it's not a pleasure to see you again," Then he looked up at the giant dressed in black and added, "Voltaire? I didn't know you had escaped from the penitentiary. But Jim and I will send you back there soon."

Immediately Voltaire's black eyes flashed in anger and he bared his teeth predatory-like groaning like an angered grizzly bear.

Before Artemus could react, Jim stood and moved protectively in front of Artie. "Try me," he said menacingly, a look of defiance on his face.

Loveless nodded. "It's very recent, that's why. Plus the telegraph does not work very well in this country. But I bet that Mr. Graham Bell's newest invention that acoustic telegraph he calls a 'telephone' will soon revolutionize the communications in the country." He paused and added, "Anyway, my previous man-servant and bodyguard Achilles was killed in an unfortunate accident a week ago. I was searching for someone to replace him when I heard that Voltaire would be transferred to another high-security penitentiary, after he almost killed three guards in his former prison. To get him out of the cell-car was child's play using mini bombs of sleeping gas, and here he is, at my side again. And you won't put him in prison again, because you'll be dead, soon."

Slowly standing up, Artie wrapped his waist in the bath towel and, curious, he asked the little man, "What are you doing here?", his voice raspy.

Loveless smiled. "The same thing that you are I suppose, taking care of my health." He pointed at Artemus's neck showing vivid blueish finger marks. "I noticed the bruises on your neck, Mr. Gordon. Did someone try to strangle you?"

Moving a hand to his still sore neck, Artie said, "occupational hazard."

Loveless then pointed at the massive bruising throughout Artemus's torso and shoulders. "And what about those marks here? How many ribs did you crack?"

Crossing his arms across his chest, Artie just glared at Loveless.

Loveless nodded. "And you're here to heal your throat and cracked ribs, I suppose. Well, chance or fate decided to reunite us again, isn't it marvelous?"

The two agents had both crossed their arms across their chest, both glaring at their Nemesis.

Loveless chuckled. "Mr. West, Mr. Gordon, now that you're barely decent, let's leave that place, and don't try anything stupid. Though I have difficulties walking, I can shoot very well, and my men too."

WWW

 _Later_

A few minutes later they entered a small building located on the outskirts of the resort. "My private residence in the resort," Loveless said. "I often come here to ease the aches in my joints. As I am a generous donator, the Director offered me this humble abode… which is only the tip of the iceberg. I built a whole facility beneath this building." Voltaire opened a large door, revealing the two metallic panels meeting in the middle of an elevator. He pressed on a button and they slid open laterally to reveal a shaft. "Just another wonder of modern technology powered by that marvelous invention I'm quite fond of, electricity. Gentlemen. Follow me."

Artemus pursed his lips, huffed and crossed his arms, "Do we have a choice?" he asked, his voice rough and hoarse.

Miguelito Loveless waved a finger. "Don't be bitter Mr. Gordon, I will soon give you the opportunity to have another leave, a permanent one."

Unfazed, Jim snorted at that and Artie grumbled something inaudible.

They moved downward for a few minutes then once the doors opened, they entered a long corridor excavated out of the rock. It was lit with gas lamps. There were two doors on each side of the corridor the agents noticed, metallic and gray-painted and another at the end of the corridor, bigger and made with wood. "It leads to your other apartments, I suppose," Jim said.

Loveless nodded. "Voltaire, show Mr. West and Mr. Gordon their room. I'm sorry but I didn't expect any visitors, so the guest quarters are limited to an empty storage room."

The giant grabbed Jim's arm and Artie's arm and opening the closest door with his shoulder he threw them inside a dark room.

Dr. Loveless rolled his wheelchair and stopped it in front of the open door. "Try to have a good night's sleep gentlemen. I'll see you in the morning. And don't try to escape, Voltaire will keep an eye on you. He ended up in prison for months because of you, so he's a bit cross at you. He could for example break some of your bones, to stop you and make you suffer… And as I don't want you to catch a cold, I'm going to provide you clothes. I'm going to send someone to bring your belongings here."

Glaring again at Loveless, Artie said, "It's very kind of you. Thank you."

Smiling like a crocodile eying its prey, Voltaire slammed the door closed and locked it. The room was plunged into total darkness.

Jim sat down his back against the closest wall. Artie did the same thing and said angrily, "And I was thinking that this leave would be calm and relaxing… We can't avoid trouble Jim, trouble always finds us. Even when we're on leave." He sighed. "If we survive what Loveless has prepared for us, Grant will keep me in his office in a giant ball of cotton wool to make sure I'm okay and in no trouble."

Looking at Artie but not seeing him, Jim said, "You're like a son to him, it's normal he's worried about you. And there's no _if,_ Artie. We'll come out of this, we always do – more or less in good shape." Frowning in concern he placed his hand on the older man's shoulder. "How do you feel Artie? Tired?"

Artie nodded. "My headache is still there but it's only throbbing now and the pain is bearable. But I'm very tired. I'm going to sleep now." He crossed his arms across his chest and rested his chin there. "Good night, Jim," he breathed before closing his eyes.

Jim patted Artie's leg. "Good night, Artie." He stayed wide awake, repeatedly checking if Artie was alright and sleeping tight.

WWW

 _The next morning_

Miguelito Loveless was practically jumping with glee when James West and Artemus Gordon each took their place in an armchair.

Two armed hulking thugs leaned against the closed door of the study keeping an eye on them ready to open fire anytime.

Sitting behind a big Louis XV style table with a telegraph on the right hand corner and a bottle of Sherry and a glass on the left hand one, Voltaire standing beside him, the diminutive man said, "I hope you had a good night's sleep gentlemen, because today will be a tiring day – especially for you Mr. Gordon. Mr. West won't have much to do, that's true, but he'll be very worried about you and anxiety can tire one easily."

Artie sighed. "Wrong choice, Doctor. I'm not in the best of shape. That's why I'm on leave and that's why Jim is mother-henning me. The recent weeks have been hard for me. I got knocked out, hard, a big ape cracked two of my ribs, an assassin almost throttled me and I still have dizzy spells from a serious concussion… I can lose consciousness anytime. Take Jim for the job, he's the one in tip top condition."

Jim smiled. "Thanks Artie."

Loveless shook his head. "I'm sorry to hear that, but this mission requires one of your most famous talents Mr. Gordon, and your partner here doesn't have it." He snapped his fingers and commanded, "Voltaire, open that trunk on the table!"

Immediately the giant dressed in black complied.

Loveless explained, "I took the liberty of sending two of my men to your train, gentlemen. I needed special things I could only find there. Don't worry, they were very careful. Your precious train is intact. But my men weren't when they came back. They were covered with bleeding scratches. Your cats attacked them – your pets are fine, don't worry. Though I can kill people without hesitation, I don't kill animals. I'm not a monster. Voltaire, pull out some of the things which are inside…"

Nodding, Voltaire lifted out a red-haired wig and a red and gold dress…

Surprised Artie stood up. "I recognize that dress and wig! They're mine. That's one of my disguises!"

One of the minions laid his hand on his shoulder, forcing him to sit back down in the armchair. "Sit! And don't move!" he commanded.

Loveless nodded. "Yes, they brought me everything necessary for you to dress up like a woman Mr. Gordon, even your make-up box and your faux-jewels."

Frowning in curiosity Jim asked. "Why do you want Artemus to impersonate a woman?"

Loveless responded, "Why? Because I need to kill Senator Paulson. He's well-guarded, but his bodyguards and even he will never suspect an attractive woman of being an assassin. I don't have any female assassins amongst my personnel. It is a lack that I plan to fill quickly, but in the meantime, instead of a real woman I will use a 'faux' one: Mr. Gordon."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Artemus said, "You want me to disguise myself as a woman to be able to kill Senator Paulson? I won't do it! Never! I'm not an assassin!"

Loveless smiled. "I knew you would say that, Mr. Gordon. I could threaten Mr. West with a horrible death to force you to do what I want, but I won't – not because I don't want to, because I can't. I don't have any sophisticated machine at hand designed to give Mr. West a very creative and stylish death. You know that I am reluctant to use ordinary pressure tactics such as threatening to kill someone with a bullet in the head or to cut his throat ... that's what common criminals do. I am above that, I am an artist!" He poured himself a glass of Sherry and added, "I'm not in my usual hideout here - where my main lab is, it's my vacation hideout. I just have books and a small chemistry lab to occupy myself when I'm not in the baths, taking care of my aching joints. But, later, after this mission, I will kill you both with my latest invention." He paused to take a sip of Sherry and continued, "A friend of mine works in the asylum just across the street. As a doctor he needs to use drugs to calm his wildest patients and sometimes he runs out of drugs – there are too many demented people to calm down. So I prepare all kind of drugs for him to test on his patients, it's a hobby of mine." He set his glass down in front of him, and opened a drawer and pulled out a syringe and a vial. "Oh, don't worry, I won't test any of them on you Mr. Gordon, you could have… let's say bad reactions like hallucinations, spasms, and a cardiac arrest, and I need you to kill the Senator."

Paling, Artemus stiffened before he started fidgeting anxiously in his chair. "I can propose a list of female assassins… some of them aren't behind bars – yet," He said.

Loveless chuckled. "That's very kind of you, Mr. Gordon. But I'm running out of time. No, I'm going to give you something commonly used on asylum patients. It will help you relax and it will help you be extremely cooperative, because I'm sure that you are a difficult subject for programming."

Hearing that Jim shivered. It reminded him of what Professor Arcularis had said a few years ago after he had hypnotized Artemus.

His sixth sense started to ring alarm bells in his head.

Loveless continued, "Your strong will, will vanish. I heard you encountered Professor Arcularis… and you sent him to prison…"

Feeling his blood run cold in his veins Jim knew that there was a connection between Loveless and Arcularis and he glanced at Artie finding his face gray with dread.

Loveless continued, "Where he unfortunately died. But he had a son, Lyle. I asked his help promising him that he could kill you."

The two agents exchanged a surprised look and Jim asked, "You want him to kill us? But I thought _you_ wanted to kill us. It's your most cherished dream."

Loveless nodded. "I know. Because I need his help, I will let Mr. Arcularis try to kill you, but first I will play with you, a little. You will be my puppet, Mr. Gordon." He cackled with glee. "I said 'try' because I'm sure he won't succeed. All the people who tried to kill you failed."

Smiling Artie said, "You first."

Loveless gave the older agent a black look. "You're right. I tried many times to get rid of you, definitively and I failed each time, yes. But I'm persuaded that one day, I will be able to kill you. _me_ , not others, me, me, me, because we're linked somehow. I know that I will eliminate you, like the hunter knows that one day, he'll kill the evasive deer he's been pursuing for a long time. It can't escape indefinitely. Some day or another, the animal will meet his bullet. And I'm patient."

Hearing that, Jim chuckled mockingly. "You patient? Oh, come on! You're the most impatient man I know. You're like a child, you want everything, right away, and if nothing happens the way you want, you have temper tantrums."

Artie frowned, puzzled. "Linked somehow? What do you mean?"

Loveless glared at Jim then looked at Artemus. "Destiny has reunited us, my dear Mr. Gordon. Since the first time I met you, I knew that our lives would cross now and then… until one day, one fortunate day, I am able, finally, to kill the two of you." He grinned and continued. "Mr. Arcularis was enchanted at the idea to help me to have the possibility of killing you – so he thinks. And should be here tonight. He's a famous hypnotist. You probably know him under his artist's name, "Agbar the Great – hypnotist of the Sultan of Ramaputhra."

Resigned to what would happen to him, Artemus closed his eyes. "I get it," he said opening them a couple of seconds later. "You want me hypnotized and conditioned to kill the Senator. Why?"

Miguelito Loveless nodded. "Excellent deduction Mr. Gordon. Let me answer your question. Senator Paulson refuses to let me buy a large part of the mountains around here arguing that those lands will be part of a future National Park. But there is gold in those mountains, and I need funds to create more inventions. Once he is dead, I hope his successor will be more willing to discuss the price."

Jim nodded. "I understand, but what I don't understand, is why ask Artie to disguise himself as a woman? He could kill him more easily as himself, Artemus Gordon, special agent of the Secret Service. The Senator wouldn't refuse to receive him in his office."

His arms still crossed on his chest, Artemus frowned. "To make fun of me, no doubt."

Loveless smiled. "You see Mr. West, Senator Paulson is a very prudent man. A few people have tried to kill him before so he always has two heavily armed bodyguards, ex-gunslingers I heard, with him. The only times he's alone is when he's with a woman – and the fool doesn't think a woman can be an assassin… tsk! Tsk! Anyway, he loves red-haired women, can't resist being attracted to them, that's why I chose the red-haired wig. Once alone with the Senator, Mr. Gordon previously conditioned by Mr. Arcularis will kill him. Don't you think it's brilliant?"

Jim shook his head. "No. What about Artie after that? The guards will probably kill him on sight – even disguised as a woman."

Blanching Artemus gave James a long look. "Why thank you for pointing that out, Jim."

James smiled and continued with his idea, "I thought you wanted to kill Artemus and me with your latest invention. If Artie dies there, you won't have the pleasure of kilingl him using your machine."

Loveless nodded. "You're right Mr. West. Of course I considered the problem and found the solution. The solution is lying in the bottom of the trunk. I took the liberty of ordering my men to take your bullet proof vest Mr. Gordon. It's a formidable invention. You were wearing it the last time we met – and that's why you're still alive, and that's why those gunslingers protecting Senator Paulson won't kill you, except if they fire at your head, but in general they prefer to aim at the chest, targeting the heart. If they shoot you, then I'll send men to retrieve your body from the morgue, and thanks to your bullet proof vest, you won't be dead, just unconscious. If they capture you, I'll send my men to free you from prison. It's that simple. I have thought of everything – and of course I will have the pleasure of killing both of you myself gentlemen, much later."

Artemus raised his hand. "As the door of our train is open to you, I'd like to have my sewing kit. I can't wear my bullet proof vest under a dress. Not in its present design at least."

Loveless nodded. "You will have your sewing kit, Mr. Gordon. In the meantime, go back to your cell. Voltaire will bring you a lamp and a copious breakfast – but no forks and no knives of course."

WWW

 _Later_

The flame of the lamp was so small that the cell (empty storage room) was almost plunged in darkness and the two men barely saw the contents of their plates.

Frowning, Jim was far too worried to have an appetite but the whole thing didn't stop Artie eating the scrambled eggs, the slices of grilled bacon, the sausages and the buttered toast. "I'm famished," he said, sucking his greasy fingers. "Oh come on, Jim, not eating won't prevent anything, on the contrary you have to eat to regain some strength. We haven't eaten since yesterday midday. We'll both need it. I intend to finish my leave, hopefully where no one will try to kill me."

Taking a grilled sausage Jim nodded. "I'm worried about you."

Artie nodded. "I know, and I'm worried about you too." He smiled. "You're giving me gray hair on a regular basis, my boy. But it's the life we chose to lead."

Jim chuckled. "I can't see any gray hairs on your head, Artie."

Artemus gave a short laugh. "Then I hide them well."

The younger man bit the end off his sausage and wolfed it down within seconds.

They both ate in companionable silence then, when the plates were empty and the coffee pot and cups empty too, they leaned against the wall, both satiated.

Suddenly Artemus pinched the bridge of his nose with his middle finger and thumb. He closed his eyes under the assault of another excruciating migraine. Wincing, moaning in pain, he buried his head in his now trembling hands and suppressed a curse.

Jim cushioned Artie's head on his shoulder and said, "It will pass, try to sleep Artie. You will feel better after. I've got you."

Grimacing Artie said, "Thanks, Jim," the older man said and he found himself drifting into sleep and finally sank into it.

Tbc.


	4. Act Two

**THE NIGHT OF THE DISGUISED ASSASSIN**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT TWO**

 _Later, inside Loveless's bedroom_

Satisfied by his appearance Artemus Gordon completed his disguise by clipping emerald earrings on the lobes of his ears. He looked at himself in the mirror of the dressing table, playing with a finger in his red curls, very satisfied. 'Ever the actor, old boy!' he thought.

Miguelito Loveless who had watched the whole transformation grinned, both fascinated and impressed. "Mr. Gordon, you really are a master of disguise. If I didn't know it's you disguised as a woman, I'd be fooled. I could invite you to dinner and then to dance."

Meeting Loveless's eyes through the mirror, Artie shook his head sending a black look to the other man. He snorted. "And I would refuse. You're not my type – you're too unpredictable, too dangerous, and too deadly." He rose and inspected his dress, frowning at the few creases he could see here and there. He glowered. "Next time, tell your minions to be careful with my dresses. It takes hours to have them properly ironed." He touched his aching and bandaged ribs feeling beneath his finger the thick material of the bullet proof vest he had turned into some kind of high collared corset in order to fit the dress and to give him maximum protection.

The door opened and James West entered the bedroom immediately followed by two armed goons. "Artie, you look gorgeous!" he said, smiling.

Pleased by the compliment, Artie grinned. "Thank you, Jim."

Miguelito Loveless nodded. "And Senator Paulson will think the same thing, I'm sure. Mr. Gordon sit down on the sofa, it's time for you to have your injection." Artie's back stiffened and he cringed slightly, but he did what he was told. "Lyle Arcularis should be here any moment." He pulled out a box from the pocket of his vest and opened it. He took the pre-filled syringe that was inside and moved it to Artemus's neck. "You need to be prepared before being hypnotized. The effect is almost immediate." Artie gritted his teeth and let out a hiss as he felt the needle pierce his skin and went limp a couple of seconds later as the injection kicked in. "Don't worry Mr. West, he's alright," Loveless continued while noticing the other agent's frown of concern. "This drug won't harm your precious partner; just annihilate his will. He won't be able to resist that way." He looked at Artemus watching in interest as the older agent's eyes glazed over. "He's dosed already."

But Jim was still concerned. Artemus could have an unpredictable bad reaction to that drug, have seizures, suffocate and die within minutes. It had happened before – without the dying part – when Artie was experimenting with drugs on himself, but fortunately he had an antidote ready and at hand in case something bad happened to him; and did his experiments when he was there, ready to inject it, he thought. Seeing Artie blink tiredly, his eyes half-lidded, he asked, "Artie, are you okay?"

But Artemus couldn't bring himself to speak, he was too drowsy, he just nodded. His gaze was dulled and his eyes blinked lazily.

Loveless, irritated, repeated, "This drug was tested before. I wouldn't take the risk of killing Mr. Gordon, at least not now, because I need him. I repeat, this drug won't harm your precious partner; just annihilate his will. He won't resist that way."

"And he'll be a like a puppet in my hands," Lyle Arcularis said when he entered the room and joined Loveless. He sent Jim a cold look of hatred. "My father died in prison because of you."

Jim crossed his arms on his chest, unfazed. "I'm sorry he died, but it's not my – our fault. After what he did his place was behind bars."

Lyle Arcularis moved toward a dazed Artemus and observed him, visibly impressed. "You told me he was a master of disguise… I totally agree with you Dr. Loveless. It's absolutely remarkable. If I didn't know that it's a man, I would take him for a woman. What about his voice? I suppose he can modulate the timbre of his voice to imitate a woman's voice?"

Miguelito Loveless smiled. "Mr. Gordon can modulate his voice to imitate any timbre, any voice, and take any accent too."

The hypnotist was stunned. "That's amazing! He could be a great actor!"

Loveless smiled. "He was an actor before the war and before he chose to work for President Grant's Secret Service, a good one I heard."

Still watching Artemus feeling drowsier with every second, Arcularis pulled up a chair and sat down very close to the other man sitting on the sofa, their knees touching, facing him. "How do you want to proceed, Doctor? Tell me."

Loveless grinned and took out a photo from the pocket of his jacket. "It's a portrait of Senator Paulson. Mr. Gordon needs to recognize the man he's going to kill."

Arcularis took it. "Why do you want to kill him?"

Loveless huffed. "Because he's a nuisance. A nuisance I'm going to eliminate. I have planned something perfect. Senator Paulson is going to find our friend here, in a hypnotic sleep on his doorstep. Of course, he's going to bring that faux lovely Lady inside to take care of her, alone. That's when you intervene, Mr. Arcularis. You wake the Lady Gordon with a loud sound, that our two-legged Trojan Horse in a dress will be able to hear from the street and following your pre-instilled instructions, he'll kill the Senator. Simple and effective."

Lyle Arcularis reached out and lifted Artie's chin and smirked seeing his sleepy eyes. "You're right, it's simple and effective. As for the loud sound, I usually use a whistle, like my father, in fact, I'll use his own whistle. I'll be outside, in the street, and with my whistle I will activate Mr. Gordon." He turned toward Loveless and added, "You see Doctor, my father hypnotized him and ordered him to kill his partner, he almost did it." He looked again at Artie and touched his brow. "He has a strong will, but everyone is receptive to hypnosis, everyone can be put into a hypnotic state, but the time varies from person to person, people being more or less receptive, the technique can also vary to help the person to fall into a hypnotic state, but in the end everything is just a matter of time before someone is under hypnosis. My father told me it took him hours to find the right technique to break Mr. Gordon's resistance because he's not very responsive to hypnosis, but at the end, he succeeded." He smiled. "The drug you gave him will facilitate greatly his conditioning; he's already relaxed and submissive. But it's not enough, of course."

Finally Artemus closed his eyes, his head lolling to the side.

Loveless nodded. "I know that's why I drugged him. I don't have hours! The Senator will leave for Washington D.C. at dawn, so I need to act as soon as possible."

The hypnotist turned toward Jim and added with a hard smile, "Your partner will be like a puppet in my hands. He'll do anything I want." Looking at Loveless again he added, "Make Mr. West leave, please. I need positive vibes, not negative ones…"

Loveless gestured to his henchmen. "Lead Mr. West to my office and watch him closely." He watched the three men leave then sat on a chair, observing Agbar the Great, fascinated. "Are you going to use a watch, or a pendulum?"

The hypnotist shook his head. "No, just my voice. It's enough." Holding Artie's head in his hands, Arcularis moved closer, his nose touching Artie's and he commanded, in deep, soft tones, his voice barely above a whisper. "Open your eyes and look at me." And Artie complied, opening his eyes groggily. Plunging his gold colored eyes into the other man's own chocolate eyes, Arcularis, continued, "Good. Now listen to my a deep breath… now breathe out, good. Do it again. Good, again, good, once more. Good. Your muscles start to grow loose… your body is now completely numb and totally relaxed… (Artie's shoulders relaxed and he slumped into the sofa). Good. Let your mind go blank and empty your mind of all thoughts. Only my voice counts. Only my words count. Nothing else. Listen to the sound of my voice and obey it. Now you feel heavy, so heavy… and you close your eyes. You let yourself drift down into a deep relaxed state… You're now completely loose, limp, and relaxed, you're not sleeping but close enough. You're going to stay conscious to be able to listen to the sound of my voice."

Artemus went limp, his mouth open. He sagged and his head tipped forward.

Loveless was impressed. "Impressive," he commented.

Lyle Arcularis smiled. "Thank you." He gently gripped Artemus's shoulders and straightened him on the sofa before he ordered with a commanding voice, yet gentle, "Now you're going to open your eyes and I want you to look at me." He waited for Artie to open his unfocused eyes and then he added, "Now with the programming: Mr. Gordon you're going to focus on my voice, on my voice only." He paused. "Nothing exists but my voice. No one can command you in this state besides me." He paused again. "You will be obedient to my voice and to my voice only and you will obey all of my commands. You will live by my command, and die by my command. Do you understand? Answer me."

His face blank, Artemus nodded. "I understand," he said flatly.

Arcularis continued, "Good. I'm going to give you a series of instructions that you will follow precisely. Do you understand? Answer me."

Artie nodded. "I understand," he repeated in a lifeless, emotionless voice.

The hypnotist smiled. "Good." He pulled a small but powerful whistle out from his jacket pocket and blew it once. "When you will hear that whistle, it will place you in a hypnotic trance and you will follow those instructions. Do you understand? Answer me."

Artemus nodded. "I understand."

Arcularis went on, "Very well. Now listen my instructions carefully Mr. Gordon: when you hear the whistle, kill Senator Paulson. You will find a small gun hidden in your _décolleté_." He placed the photographic portrait of Paulson in front of Artie and added "Look at that portrait closely, that's Senator Paulson, remember his face. Once Senator Paulson is dead, after hearing gunshots you will wake up from the hypnotic trance and you will forget everything since the end of your last mission. Do you understand? Answer me."

Artemus nodded. "I understand."

Satisfied, Agbar the Great continued, "Now Mr. Gordon I'm going to plant two post-hypnosis trigger words in your mind. I want to avenge my father, so I will command you to kill your partner and then to kill yourself, after you accomplished your mission."

Loveless raised a finger. "But not before I have had time to play with Mr. Gordon. I want him to be my puppet without strings."

The hypnotist nodded. "Yes, I know." He paused and said, "When you hear the first word _black_ from me you will fall again under my control, you will be in a hypnotic trance again, waiting for my orders, and you will do whatever I want. Do you understand? Answer me."

Artemus nodded. "I understand."

The hypnotist said, "When you hear the second word _white_ from me you will leave the hypnotic trance and be your own self again. Do you understand? Answer me."

Artemus nodded. "I understand." He responded in a very deadpan tone.

Arcularis smiled. "Very good Mr. Gordon." He looked at Loveless who was fascinated. "Like this I will be able to control him, anytime, even after he's back here, his mission accomplished. It saves me having to repeat the hypnotic procedure."

Miguelito Loveless grinned. "Excellent! Excellent! I have plans for Mr. Gordon, but first, I'm going to ask him to kill President Grant once he's back in Washington."

The hypnotist nodded. "I can ask him to do anything Dr. Loveless."

Loveless rubbed his chin pensively. "I'm not going to kill Mr. West in the near future like I had planned to. No. he'll be more useful alive and under my orders – I mean under your orders, like his partner. When Paulson is dead, you'll hypnotize Mr. West."

Arcularis turned toward Artemus staring off into space and finally added, "Now Mr. Gordon, you're going to sleep, in a deep sleep and you'll wake only when hearing the whistle and accomplish your mission: kill Senator Paulson. Do you understand?" Artemus nodded again. "Good! _Sleep now_." And with that, Artemus closed his eyes, fast asleep. His body fell back against the backrest of the sofa, then slid slowly on his side until he met the cushions, his breathing even.

Loveless clapped his hands. "Bravo! Bravo! Bravo! That was _magistral_!"

Smiling with pleasure Arcularis bowed his head. "Thank you," he said as he stood up. He frowned, puzzled realizing something. "Is Senator Paulson protected?"

Loveless nodded. "Yes, he has ex-gunslingers in his service."

The hypnotist frowned. "Then, Mr. Gordon here will end up in prison if he's lucky or in the morgue if he's not. I'm not going to have the pleasure of killing him…"

The diminutive man shook his head. "You will." He glanced at Artemus Gordon sleeping deeply on the couch and then looked up at Arcularis and said, "I'll send my men to retrieve Mr. Gordon and bring him here, either from a cell or from the morgue – but he won't be dead, just stunned because he's wearing a bullet proof vest – he turned into a corset under his dress. He usually creates all his costumes you know; he's so talented it will be a pity to kill him, one day." He suddenly snapped his fingers. "I'd like to use a device I just invented, based on Thomas Edison's machine project – I myself do a little technological spying from time to time - to record your voice giving Mr. Gordon a special order… the order to kill President Ulysses S. Grant."

WWW

 _In the meantime, in the next room, in Loveless's office_

Once Jim was tied to a chair the two minions exchanged a knowing smile and left him alone. Their boss was busy and he wouldn't notice their absence, they mused. They needed to have a break to drink a coffee and to piss and possibly eat something like a sandwich.

Jim West was left alone in the room, with the telegraph. "An occasion to seize, Jim," he said to himself. He easily got rid of the ropes tying him to the chair – he and Artie had trained for days in the Wanderer to be able to do that, he remembered and hurried to send a telegram to Colonel Richmond in Washington:

Senator Paulson in Hot Springs, Rockies, in grave danger – stop – Artemus Gordon has been hypnotized with instructions to kill him – stop – he's disguised as a red-headed woman – stop – he will be left on the Senator's doorstep in a hypnotic sleep – stop – do not intervene yet – stop – Loveless will probably be watching – stop – let the Senator bring Artie inside his home – stop – find a way to neutralize Artemus – stop – he will wake when hearing a whistle and will shoot at the Senator – stop - arrest the man in the street with the whistle – stop - send troops to the farthest building of the spa – stop – there is an elevator behind a door leading to Dr. Loveless's hideout – stop – I am prisoner here – stop – James West – stop.

He received confirmation two minutes later followed by: Jeremy Pike in Hot Springs – stop – will received his instructions soon – will take care of Artemus – stop – good luck - stop – Richmond – stop.

Jim was very surprised. "Jeremy's here? What a coincidence!" He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. That wasn't a coincidence, he mused. Grant was so worried about Artie getting himself in new trouble that he probably had ordered Richmond to send Jeremy here as a back-up, just in case things turn bad." He gave a short laugh. "Grant is going to give you a desk job in Washington to be sure you're safe, Artie…" Then he sighed in relief. Jeremy was a good agent and a friend and would handle the whole situation well.

Satisfied, he did his best to put the ropes back in place and waited for Loveless's henchmen to come back. When they did, he feigned pulling hard on the ropes and they fell on the floor.

The tallest of the goons pointed his gun at Jim. "Okay, stand up, move to the wall and put your hands on it, and don't move, or I'll kill you!"

Jim complied, hiding a smile while thinking: Artie won't kill the Senator. Troops will swarm the place soon and with luck Loveless will be arrested along with Arcularis Jr. and all the minions. Once freed I'll find Artie and bring him back to the Wanderer.

WWW

 _Later_

Loveless opened the curtains covering the window of his carriage and looked outside, into the street. He noticed a man standing beside a lamp post. He recognized Arcularis. Then he watched Senator Paulson framed between his bodyguards head toward his house… and suddenly stop, seeing a * lovely red-haired woman * slumped on his doorstep.

The diminutive man smiled broadly, very pleased, everything was going according to his plan, he thought. He almost clapped his hands in glee as he watched the tallest bodyguard hoist Artemus Gordon in his arms and carry him inside, followed by a very worried Senator. The other bodyguard closed the door behind them. "Ah! It's perfect, Voltaire!" he said to the giant sat in front of him.

The bodyguard carried Artemus into the study and laid him down on the sofa. Jeremy Pike waiting there took place beside his friend. "Hello Artemus," he said smiling in admiration. "You look gorgeous in that coat and dress… " He took off Artie's black coat and fur collar and started looking for the other man's gun.

Paulson was amazed. "Are you sure that…. This woman is a man?" he asked. "Because she really looks like a beautiful red-haired woman."

Pike nodded, "If Artemus was awake, he would appreciate the compliment, Senator." He pulled Artie's dress and petticoat up to his knees, revealing long legs, garter belts and black semi-opaque stockings. No holster and gun there, he noticed. He pulled them back into place. "Artemus Gordon is one of the two best agents of the Secret Service, Sir, and the other one, James West should be here shortly." He patted the sleeves and found nothing there either. "Artemus is a master of disguise, Senator; he can impersonate anyone – women included." He finally snaked one hand inside Artemus _décolleté_ and chuckled. "I'm sorry do have to do that miss… but I'm only doing my duty. " He found a Derringer there. "Got you!" He pulled it out from the false breasts and quickly replaced it with another one. "That gun is loaded with blank cartridges Senator," he said. "There's no risk for you. But remember, when Artemus shoots you, you must fall to the ground and stop moving, playing dead. He has to believe he killed you."

Paulson nodded. "I will. And your friend will wake?"

Jeremy nodded too. "Yes, he'll be himself again, his mission accomplished. That is what usually happens to those who are programmed to do something. Now I have to leave before Artemus hears the whistle putting him into a hypnotic trance."

Pike left the room but stayed behind the door, his ear resting against the wooden panel. A loud whistle was suddenly heard and then, two gunshots resounded.

Pike opened the door and rushed toward his friend. He took his gun from his hand and said, "It's alright Artemus, it's alright."

Artemus looked at Jeremy, completely disoriented. "Jeremy? What are you doing here?" He looked around him with surprise. "And what is this place? What am I doing here?"

Senator Paulson pulled himself upright. "I'm Senator Henry Paulson. You're in my house, Mr. Gordon. You're safe now."

Confused Artie frowned. "What the hell is going on here?" he finally noticed that he was wearing one of his most beautiful dresses. He touched his wig and still very confused, looking at Jeremy he asked, "Why am I disguised as a woman?

WWW

Outside, in the street, Lyle Arcularis smiled with pleasure and started crossing the street moving to Loveless's carriage. Paulson was dead, but his smile vanished as three soldiers jumped on him, tackling him to the pavement.

Loveless's victory grin vanished from his lips as he saw a dozen of soldiers head in his direction. He opened the box placed under the seat and pulled out two gas bombs. "Always come out prepared for the worst," he said throwing them amongst the soldiers. They immediately exploded and a thick yellow knock out gas enveloped the troopers. Using his cane he hit the top of his carriage. "Let's get out of here!" he commanded, frowning in both anger and frustration. His plan had probably failed somehow, he mused. "But how?" he sighed. "I hope that the Senator is dead!" he said to Voltaire. He gritted his teeth. "Another plan ruined! I will make you pay, Misters West and Gordon!"

Loveless's carriage had just turned the corner of the street when Jim West dismounted and hurried inside Paulson's house.

Hearing voices he entered the study shortly after and he grinned seeing Artemus sitting on the sofa conversing with Jeremy. The Senator was standing beside a window, looking into the street. "Artie! You alright?" He pulled Artie upright and hugged him. He parted from him a few seconds later and patted his best friend's shoulder. "I'm so happy to see you again. You okay?"

Artemus shook his head. "No, I'm still pretty confused and I don't remember anything after the end of our last mission. Jeremy told me what he knows and it's very sparse, but it would seem that you Jim, you know the whole thing. Where have you been?"

Jim sighed. "I was held prisoner in Loveless's hideout at the spa, but a detachment of cavalry swarmed the place, captured Loveless's men and freed me," he explained. I'll tell you everything once we're in the Wanderer, Artie, you need rest. Jeremy you're going back to Washington with us of course."

Pike nodded. "Yes, Colonel Richmond ordered me to keep an eye on you until we reach Washington. Then President Grant will see you in his office upon arrival."

Artie groaned and sank onto the sofa. He buried his tired features in his hands. "Oh boy! Grant's is going to chain me to a desk in the Secret Service headquarters in Washington D.C."

Jim nodded. "And he'll demote me and send me in a remote bureau somewhere in a middle of a desert. He asked me to mother-hen you, to take care of you. I didn't."

Sighing Artemus rubbed his forehead feeling a migraine coming. "No, you couldn't. It's not your fault Jim, he'll understand. I'm going to need a new leave." He took the glass of whisky handed him. "Thank you Jeremy, I really need a stiff drink." Then he gulped the amber liquid.

Jim looked at Jeremy and asked the other agent, "Richmond ordered you to come here as a back-up, just in case something bad happened, right?"

Pike nodded. "Yes, he received a direct order from the President."

Two soldiers preceding a Lieutenant entered the room. They saluted and the officer, looking very embarrassed said, "Dr. Loveless and Mr. Arcularis escaped, Sir," he said to Jim West.

Jim frowned. "How?"

The officer sighed feeling powerless. "Dr. Loveless used knock out gas bombs on my men, they couldn't do anything. As for Mr. Arcularis he… he told my men to go to sleep and they collapsed to the ground, sleeping. He stole a gun. I'm sorry Sir."

Artie moaned, his migraine worsening. He screwed his eyes shut and then shot them open again. "Let's go back to the train," he said. He stood up and swayed. Jim caught his elbow holding him.

Pike smiled. "Go back to the Wanderer, I'll join you later. I'm going to send a telegram to Colonel Richmond and take care of other things here."

Jim nodded. "Thank you Jeremy. Come on Artie, let's go back home."

Tbc.


	5. Act Three

**THE NIGHT OF THE DISGUISED ASSASSIN**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT THREE**

 _Later in the Wanderer_

Grimacing in pain Artemus stepped out of the pool of clothes (his petticoat and dress) laying at his feet and touched his aching ribs. "I won't wear a corset ever again," he said. He took the offending garment made with his bullet proof vest and observed it. "It's going to return to its original form, be a vest again." He threw it on the golden embroidered sofa and sat there heavily, bare chested, leaning against the cushions. He was tired and drawn out. "I'm going to sleep for a whole week, Jim."

Smiling, Jim sat beside his partner. "In a week we'll be back in Washington D.C."

Artie removed his shoes and massaged his sore feet one after another. "Perhaps we could get lost _en route_ … and never reach the capital, at least not before the end of Grant's presidency."

James chuckled. "Don't worry Artie, President Grant won't scold at you. He'll be far too happy to see that you're okay and he won't chain you to a desk in the Treasury Department in Washington to do paperwork. But one day, I'm sure he will, if you're seriously injured or wounded. So be careful."

Nodding, Artemus untied one garter and removed a first black semi-opaque fishnet stocking. "You're right, Jim, I will," he said. "Tedious paperwork could kill me better than a bullet." He rubbed his hairless calve lost in his thoughts. After a moment he said, "I don't remember anything of what happened… like I didn't remember anything after Dr. Arcularis – the father, not the son - hypnotized me. I tried to remember but… I can't find anything. The last thing I remember is me waking up from a coma in the hospital…" He took off his other stocking and rolled them both into a ball before throwing it on the carpeted floor. "Fortunately this time, I didn't try to kill you James – but Senator Paulson. And fortunately too, you did what was necessary to protect him." He stood up, yawned and stretched hearing some of his joints creak. "I feel very old…I'm going to take a long warm bath, and then I'll have 12 hours of uninterrupted sleep – with absolute interdiction not to wake me for any reason." He was going to say good night to Jim when someone knocked at the door. "It's probably Jeremy," he said. In his short black underwear he headed toward the door. He opened it and frowned seeing a man he didn't know standing on the rear platform. "Yes? What can I do for you?"

Lyle Arcularis simply said, "Black" – and smiled as he saw the agent freeze like a statue, his eyes vacant, waiting for his orders, ready to do whatever he wanted. Smiling the hypnotist pulled out the gun he had stolen from the belt of one of the soldiers and placed it in Artemus hand. "Go back inside and kill James West!"

Artie pivoted, took a step forward, pointed the gun at Jim and fired – hitting the bullet proof corset Jim had with the fastest reflex in the world, placed on his chest a couple of seconds before. Artie fired again, targeting his partner's head this time and barely missed as Jim leaped like a panther… and tackled him to the floor. Artie tried to disengage himself from his partner's grip, in vain.

Jim managed to roll Artie onto his stomach and holding his right wrist in a vice-like grip he used his left forearm to press down on Artemus carotid arteries – avoiding compressing his already damaged airway. He knew that an interruption of blood flow to the brain depriving it of adequate oxygen supply for more than 10 seconds caused unconsciousness.

Shortly after that Artemus eyes rolled back in his head and he went limp. "I'm really sorry, Artie!" Jim said to the older man now lying unconscious on the floor.

Lyle Arcularis plunged to the floor and grabbed the gun Gordon still held. Kneeling he pointed it at Jim. "Move back! And raise your hands!" he ordered.

Jim complied.

The hypnotist stepped over Artemus's immobile body, smiling in victory. "I'm going to kill you Mr. West, and then I will kill Mr. Gordon." He was going to pull the trigger when there was a loud BANG and he sank to his knees on the floor, crying out in pain, dropping his gun, holding his right shoulder, blood pouring between his fingers. Growling in rage he looked up at the man that had fired at him. "Damn you!"

Pike smiled. "You're welcome." He gave Arcularis a stony glare. "Stay where you are and don't move. I have five more bullets in my gun and I won't hesitate to use them all."

Lyle Arcularis reached out and said, looking right into Jeremy's eyes; "Look in my eyes. You're going to focus on my voice, on my voice only. Nothing exists but my voice. You will obey my voice…"

Pike groaned his face turned into marble. "Stop it! Or I'll shoot you!" Arcularis immediately stopped. "Relaxing Jeremy smiled. "Hello Jim!"

Jim smiled too and said, "It's good to see you, Jeremy. You arrived just in time. Thank you." He dragged Artie to the closest sofa and manuvered him onto it. Then he slapped his partner's face, gently but firmly. "Come on, buddy, wake up." Artemus opened his eyes but stay immobile like a statue, his eyes vacant. Jim turned toward Arcularis and shooting a dark look at the wounded man he groaned, "He's still hypnotized, undo this, now! Don't make me repeat it."

Pike poked Arcularis's temple with the muzzle of his gun and said, coldly. "If I were you, I'll do it. I'm sure Jim is planning to torture you, right now."

Arcularis looked up at Jeremy. "You wouldn't! You're federal agents; you don't torture people, just arrest them and put them behind bars. You are honorable men."

Pike nodded. "You're right. But Jim West and Artemus Gordon aren't ordinary agents Mr. Arcularis, but special agents and they are special agents because they have _carte blanche_ from the President to do anything necessary to accomplish their mission. A-ny-thing."

The hypnotist looked at West holding his partner's hand. His shoulders sagged a little in defeat. He sighed and nodded. "Alright. Mr. Gordon, listen to my voice. _White_."

Moaning and wincing, Artemus opened his eyes slowly and massaged his sore neck. "Ow! Oh boy, what happened?" he asked Jim with a raspy voice. He sat down and frowned seeing the hypnotist sat across the room, his shoulder bleeding, Jeremy standing beside him, gun in his hand. "That's the man I saw on the platform earlier… why is he wounded? Uh-oh! I was hypnotized again, wasn't I?"

Jim nodded. "Yes and you tried to kill me Artie, twice, and failed. I had to choke you to neutralize you, I'm really sorry, pal, but you left me no other choice."

Artie nodded his eyes dazed and fatigue-fogged. "I'm sorry, and you're forgiven Jim. Who is he?" he asked looking at the hypnotist.

Jim followed Artie's eyes. "You don't remember him, of course. Let me present to you, Agbar the Great – hypnotist of the Sultan of Ramaputhra, but he's real name is Lyle Arcularis. Professor Arcularis's son, and like his father, he hypnotizes people. On stage and in private, for Dr. Loveless. By the way, how did you manage to hypnotize my partner again, so quickly? It was a matter of seconds."

Pike poked his prisoner's temple with the muzzle of his Colt again. encouraging Arcularis to talk. "I planted two trigger words in his mind when I hypnotized your friend, allowing me to control him anytime and to make him do whatever I wanted." The hypnotist explained. "The first one placed him in a hypnotic trance and the second one broke it, make him be himself again."

Artemus nodded in appreciation. "Very ingenious." He yawned. "You will remove those trigger words from my mind of course and I'd love to talk to you about hypnotism but I'm too tired, maybe tomorrow... or not. I might sleep for a whole week." He closed his eyes and slowly slid to the left, his body heavy with sleep.

Jim pulled him upright. "No, no, no, not here, Artie, but in your bed. Jeremy could you show our guest our rolling cell please?" Then he left the parlor car, half dragging Artie to his sleeping compartment. He sat the other man down on the edge of the bed and one hand to Artemus's chest, the other to his back, he levered him down onto the mattress, gently. He un-wrapped a blanket and covered Artie with it, up to his chest. "There, you can sleep now, Artemus."

Artie closed his bloodshot eyes. "Thanks Jim… see you in the morning, no, don't wake me up before next summer." He his breathing became slower and sleep claimed him. He drifted into oblivion a smile on his lips.

WWW

 _18 hours later_

It was nearly 0930 when Jeremy Pike entered the parlor car finding James West already seated at the table, eating a slice of buttered toast. "Good morning Jim," he said, taking the place in front of his friend.

Jim smiled at his friend. "Good morning, Jeremy."

Pike glanced at all the meals displayed on silver plates: omelets, grilled sausages, grilled bacon, _tomates à la provencale,_ ham, cream cheese, pancakes, waffles… "You know Jim, I'm jealous. Artemus and you are travelling in a very well furbished and luxury train, you have all those fantastic gadgets – that Artemus designs and builds – and you, Jim, you have a Chef at 'home', preparing meals that could be served in the White House!... I tell you, if one day, Artemus is unable to be your partner – temporarily stuck in Washington by a mother-henning President for example – I'll ask Richmond to give me his post here."

Jim chuckled. "We'll see. Speaking of the Chef, where's Artemus? Still in the galley?"

Jeremy shook his head. "When I met him a few minutes ago he was heading to the cell to take breakfast to our prisoner."

Jim dropped his fork in his plate as his stomach plummeted. "What? Oh no! Arcularis didn't remove the trigger words from Artemus's mind. He can still control him."

Jeremy blanched. "I didn't remember… Artie was sleeping two hours ago. It had completely escaped my mind, and it has escaped Artemus's mind too."

The two men had just stood up when the swinging door of the parlor car opened and Artemus appeared, followed by Arcularis. The hypnotist was holding a gun against Artemus's neck.

Jim and Jeremy immediately noticed that Artie was again controlled by Arcularis: he was stiff and his eyes showed no life.

The hypnotist smiled. "Your friend Mr. Gordon is under my control again as you can see. You forgot the trigger words planted in his mind." He looked through the window. "We stopped a few minutes ago. Where are we exactly?"

"In a small town called Parker's Junction," Jim said.

Arcularis nodded. "Parker's Junction, good. I'm going to get down here. Mr. Gordon will be my hostage until I'm somewhere safe. Move to one side. And don't do anything foolish."

Jeremy moved towards the foyer resting his back against the mantel. Jim stood beside him, his hand resting against a decorative _rosette_ there… and slowly turned it as Arcularis headed toward the door pushing his hostage in front of him – making the coupled guns sat on the desk pivot at the same time.

Jeremy asked, "By the way Mr. Arcularis, what color his your shirt?"

The hypnotist automatically responded, "White." And let out a curse as he realized he had been tricked to say the trigger word freeing Artemus Gordon's mind.

Immediately Jim commanded, "Artie down!" before the twin guns fired.

But Artemus, confused, wasn't rapid enough. Arcularis fired unintentionally too as two bullets entered his back and he crumpled to the floor.

Artie cried out in pain as a bullet grazed his right temple. A split second later world grew fuzzy around the edges and he lost consciousness within seconds.

Jim felt a wave of worry rush over him. Artie was hit. He was bleeding. He caught Artemus in his arms before he hit the floor, and dragged him to the sofa.

Pike looked down at Arcularis's body. "He's dead. He won't be able to use those trigger words anymore. Artemus is now free."

Jim lay Artie down on his side and checked his wound. The bullet had deeply grazed his left temple and it was bleeding a lot.

Jeremy leaned over Artemus and grimaced. "That was very close. I'm going to fetch the local doctor. I won't be long. I'll stop at the sheriff's office and the funeral home on my way back."

WWW

 _Later_

 _Artemus's compartment_

Grimacing Jim watched the doctor put stitches in Artie's deep graze he had previously cleaned with some disinfectant. There was a nasty bruise forming on the right side of his forehead. one more, he thought. "Is he going to be alright?" he asked.

Dr. Bennett nodded. "He's going to have a hell of a headache for at least a week but he's going to be fine. I'm going to give him something to fight the pain, too." He gently wrapped a bandage around Artemus head hiding some of his dark curls from view, then placed the disc shaped part of his stethoscope on his patient's chest, again. "His heart beat is a little slow but it's strong." He frowned in concern noticing the strained features, the pallor of the other man's cheeks and the dark circles round his puffy, red eyes. "This man here really needs a lot of rest, Mr. West. He's on the verge of exhaustion," he added.

Still looking down at a motionless Artie lying on his bed, Jim nodded, his brow furrowing in concern too. "I know. These last few days were pretty hard on him."

Charles Bennett nodded. "I gathered that by seeing the bruises left on his neck, torso and shoulders… Any head injury?"

Looking at the physician Jim said, "Yes, a few days ago he took a blow to the head and had a nasty concussion. Why?

Bennett nodded. "That concussion plus his head injury combined could have serious consequences. I'm sorry, I can't be more specific. There really is no telling when it comes to head injuries. He could have brain damage for example. But I'm not an expert, just an old country doctor. Once back in Washington take your friend to a more qualified doctor than I am, he'll need it."

Looking back at Artie, his eyes filled with concern, Jim said, "I will. I know the best doctor in the whole country. Thank you doctor. Come with me, please."

Once the doctor was paid and had left the Wanderer Jim went back to Artie, still dead to the world. He sat on the edge of the bed. "Everything's going to be okay Artie."

WWW

 _Later, in Artie's sleeping compartment_

Leaning against the door, Jeremy Pike watched Artemus stir and regain consciousness slowly, his eyes flickering open.

He closed them a split second later, groaning, as he felt a sudden thick pain striking through his head, flaring up at the same time as a wave of nausea hit him. "Oooh… that hurts," he weakly rasped. He let out a muffled cry of pain and pinched his eyes shut.

Swallowing welling bile, he blinked to get used to the sunlight. He prodded the sore spot with his fingers and found his aching head was bandaged, "Ouch! Ow!"

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Jeremy Pike said, "Take it easy now, you're safe. Avoid any brusque movement, remember, you have two healing cracked ribs and a head wound. You're going to be fine, with time and rest. Go back to sleep."

Feeling weak as a newborn kitten, Artie shook his head. "No, need to sit… gonna be… sick if I stay like this." He said, his voice weak, jaw tightened. Moving into a sitting position, he groaned. His ribs and chest ached.

He looked at the other man in surprise and confusion. "What did you say? Cracked ribs? Head wound?" He furrowed his eyebrows and looked even more confused. "But, who are you?" Then he glanced around him, trying to regain his bearings, but didn't recognize a single thing in the room. "What's this place? Where am I? What am I doing here?" he asked his breathing growing heavy with stress.

Struck speechless Jeremy's blinked for a few seconds in total surprise then he frowned in alarm and two words popped up in his mind: temporary amnesia.

He raised a hand. "Okay, calm down, calm down. It's okay. Breathe, take deep breaths, you're going to be okay. What's the last thing you remember?"

Furrowing his eyebrows Artemus searched his memory for 30 seconds to find it desperately blank. He couldn't remember anything, not even his own name he realized. Afraid, he rolled in a ball against the bulkhead glancing frantically around him, trying to remember something – anything. But he couldn't. "I-I don't remember anything," he said, eyes bulging, trembling, panicking. "Anything. Not even my own name," he added, his voice dry. "Who are you? Who am I? What happened? Why am I here? Where is here? He asked gulping. "I need help. Help me please, whoever you are."

Jeremy reached out patted the other man's knee soothingly. "You've suffered a head injury but will be okay, it's not a serious one, but it seems that it provoked a temporary memory loss. That's why you don't remember anything. But it's only for a little bit. Let's start with who you are and who I am: your name is Artemus Gordon and my name is Jeremy Pike. Now what we are: we're both agents of the USSS…"

Intrigued, lifting an eyebrow, Artemus enquired, "USSS?"

Pike said, "United States Secret Service." and reached for the glass of water sitting on the nightstand next to the bed.

But Artie shook his head. "No, thanks."

Jeremy put the glass of water back on the nightstand. "Our boss is Colonel Richmond and he receives direct orders from President Grant. Now let me tell you where we are: we're in your sleeping compartment on board the Wanderer, it's the name of a train that you and your partner use to accomplish missions throughout the whole country."

Face incredulous, Artie blinked, a bit overwhelmed. "What?" My name is Artemus Gordon, what a strange name. It doesn't ring a bell. Then I am an agent of the Secret Service?"

Pike nodded. "Yes, one of the two best. The other one is your best friend and partner, James West. You've worked together for 4 years now."

Artie touched the bandage wrapped around his head again, where it hurt." You said I have a head wound. Did someone hit me on the head?"

Jeremy shook his head. "No, it's a deep bullet graze. A doctor stitched it." the door suddenly opened and Jim entered the room. "Ah, Jim. We have a problem."

Frowning, Jim looked at Artemus. "Artie, you alright?" He noticed that his best friend looked both confused and disoriented. "Something wrong?"

Looking at Jim from head to toe, Artie asked, "Who are you?"

WWW

 _Later_

For one hour Jim and Jeremy let Artie explore the Wanderer expecting the other man to remember something, anything, but he didn't, couldn't. Not yet.

Defeated Artemus slumped on a chair at the table of the parlor car and rubbed his bandaged temple. The stitches were starting to itch. "Absolutely nothing," he said to his companions. "I can't remember anything." He spotted a tawny, fluffy cat crouched on the golden embroidered sofa and staring at him with its amber eyes. "Not even that cat." He looked up at Jim. "You are my best friend, my partner, I must know you, but…I'm afraid I can't remember you."

Jeremy patted his friend's shoulder in a comforting gesture. "Perhaps you're trying too hard. Let things come to you… you will remember. It's just a matter of time. Do you want something to drink?"

Artemus nodded. "Yes, thank you. Something stiff."

Pike moved to the sideboard finding a carafe of whisky and glasses there… and noticed something else lying next to, on the shelf.

Smiling he took the fox-sock-puppet and pivoted. "What's that?" he asked Jim.

Artie smiled broadly and said, "It's Foxy, my sock-puppet…owww!" He suddenly felt his head spinning as everything suddenly came back to his memory and he winced as he was assaulted by a terrible headache. He lowered his forehead toward the top of the table. "Oooh boy!" he let out, as he rested his head on the green tablecloth.

Jim pulled up a chair, took Foxy from Jeremy hands and sat beside Artie. "Artie! Are you okay buddy? You recognized the sock-puppet… does that mean…?"

Artemus kept his eyes closed until his pounding headache died down a little. "Yes." He straightened, breathing harshly, a little green and sweating.

He put the sock puppet around his arm and looking at Foxy he said, "Say hello to Jim, Foxy." Foxy looked at Jim and said (using Artie's ventriloquist voice), "Hello James my boy. Missed me?"

WWW

 _Washington D.C. a week later_

The President slammed the report on his desk. He wasn't a happy man. Jim and Artie, both at attention did their best to stay impassive. But they were nervous.

Ulysses S. Grant took a long, fat cigar from the box. He bit the tip off and lit the other end with a match. Then enveloped in a cloud of blue smoke he stared at his best agents, his brow furrowed for two long minutes, lost in his thoughts. Then he finally said, "I read your report, gentlemen. It would seem that you had a very interesting leave, gentlemen, and a very not peaceful one."

Squaring his shoulders, Artemus spoke first. "Yes Sir, but no one could have predicted that Dr. Loveless would be there too to take care of his joints – and at the same time planning to kill Senator Paulson, Sir."

Following suit Jim added, "It was just an unfortunate coincidence that Artie and I were in that spa at the same time, Sir."

Artie continued, "Loveless escaped. But we'll find him and put him behind bars, Sir."

Jim nodded. "One day, Sir."

Grant bit his cigar, irritated. He opened the file, took out a sheet of paper and said, "Dr. Henderson gave me the list of your recent injuries, gentlemen. For the last month only!" Looking up at Jim he said, "Head wound, broken wrist, bullet wound in the left shoulder… " He looked up at Artemus and then read, "A broken arm, a severe concussion leading to dizzy spells where you passed out, two broken ribs; you were almost strangled; you fell into a coma, had a bruised larynx and lost your voice; you almost drowned in a mud bath, you were drugged and hypnotized, your partner here choked you; you got shot in the head, thankfully it was a graze, you temporarily lost your memory, you were hit on your head, beaten… it's a rather long list."

Artemus touched the bandage on his aching left temple. "I'm alright, Sir. Dr. Henderson did a complete medical exam and I'm fit for duty. Unfortunately those injuries and wounds…"

At this Grant's jaw set, and his eyebrows knit together. "Come with the job, I know, you always say that after a series of injuries," he interrupted Artie. "But there's only one Artemus Gordon, and I need to preserve him, at least for a few weeks, until he is completely recovered. Continuing like this would be far too risky for your health, Artemus. You could die from a stroke for example, and I refuse to accept that. I tell you this because I like you a lot, and because this country needs you, and it's the President who's talking here. My personal secretary is sick and won't be able to serve me for three weeks, and I need a new one. You were my aide de camp for a while during the war, before James took your place, before you chose to be a spy working under my direct orders. You know me, you know all the politicians of the Capital, Congressmen and Senators and the people that count in this city and you know the White house better than me, you'll be perfect in that role, Artemus."

Upset and incapable of hiding his feelings, Artie made a face. "With all due respect, Sir, my place is at my partner's side…"

Ulysses S. Grant frowned, held up a finger and shook his head. "Your place, Mr. Gordon is where I want you to be," he snapped. Seeing Artie starting to sulk, he let out a few puffs of smoke and, his voice softening, he continued, "Don't take this as a sanction or as a punishment, but as a temporary new post, highlighting others of your talents, like your analytical mind, your honesty, your diplomatic talent, your talent to write reports and speeches…etc. And I'm not telling you that to flatter you, so that you accept the post more easily, you know it's not my style. I may be a politician, but I remain a soldier at heart. I state things as they are, without embellishing them. I'm simply telling the truth. I need your help and I think you are the best for this * temporary * post, Artemus."

Pleased by the President's compliments (his chest puffed out at that) and by the trust he put in his abilities, and mostly by Grant's emphasis on temporary, Artemus nodded, a grin stretching his mouth wide. "It would be an honor and a pleasure to be your new _temporary_ personal secretary, Mr. President."

The President grinned. "Good, that's settled then."

Patting Artie's shoulder to congratulate him, Jim smiled. "I'm sure you're going to take to it like a duck to water here, buddy. And perhaps, if the President is satisfied with your work – and I'm sure he will be - he'll give you another job here in Washington, one day, who knows?"

Artie's lips thinned into a straight line as his eyes shot daggers at his best friend. "Once is enough" he mouthed. Then looking back at Grant, he asked. "When do I start, Sir?"

Ulysses S. Grant stood up and sat on the corner of his desk. "You start now. What do you know about the French Ambassador, Mr. Du Plessis?"

Artie said, "Only the basics, Sir. I know his lovely daughter Charlotte much better than him… I met her six months ago at a reception at Senator Finley's house. We err…" He cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks flush. "Err… _talked a lot_. She loves Shakespeare, music, paintings and she's a good cook too. She gave me fabulous recipes for ice-cream and cakes."

President Grant chuckled. Talked a lot? Or rather made love a lot? The innuendo was very clear, he thought. He knew Artemus Gordon's reputation with Washington's women. "How many Ambassadors' daughters do you know?"

Embarrassed Artie gave a small smile. "All of them, Sir."

Jim grinned and added, "He knows a lot of Senator's daughters too, Governors' daughters, high-ranking officers' daughters, etc. Artie is very popular with the ladies here in the Capital."

The President patted Artemus's arm with affection. "That kind of talent could be useful. Women love to talk and they sometimes reveal vital information without thinking. I will receive Ambassador Pierre Du Plessis, his daughter and a few persons in his entourage tonight. I want you to take care of everything. Oh! I will give you your own place to live and work in the White House. I want you at my side 24 hours a day. You have an hour to fetch your belongings from the train. Then come back here, we have much to discuss."

Artemus nodded. "Yes Sir."

WWW

 _Later in the Wanderer_

Sighing, Artemus sat on the sofa and rested his feet on his trunk. "I'm going to miss you, Jim." He said to his partner sitting at the table, holding a cup of coffee.

Jim smiled. "I'm going to miss you too, Artie, but you'll only be gone for three weeks, and you will have adventures here, be subjected to the perils of Washington: keeping Grant informed of everything happening in the country over breakfast; doing a review of all the country newspapers, etc… and the most dangerous one - living 24 hours per day with Grant.. He has the stamina of a horse. He never sleeps; he spends all his time working, working, and working. I was his aide de camp, I know that. He was exhausting."

Artie nodded. "I know that too, the man is a ball of energy, unable to keep still for more than an hour. I'm not going to get bored."

There was a knock at the door. It opened and a young Lieutenant of cavalry entered the room. "The carriage is here, Sir." He said to Artie. He turned round and a sergeant crossed the threshold. "Take Mr. Gordon's trunk, sergeant and bring it to the carriage."

"Yes, Sir," the burly man said before taking the trunk on his shoulder as if it weighed nothing.

Jim stood up and Artie too. They hugged for a long time, and then they parted smiling.

"You will give me regular news, okay?" Jim asked his best friend.

Artemus nodded. "I will, goodbye Jim, see you in three weeks. In the meantime take care of yourself and of the cats, and please keep my lab and my galley tidy."

They both laughed.

Tbc.


	6. Act Four

**THE NIGHT OF THE DISGUISED ASSASSIN**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT FOUR**

 _Two days later_

 _French Embassy, Washington D.C._

 _Ballroom_

President Ulysses S. Grant took a sip of Champagne and framed between Colonel Richmond and Dr. Henderson glanced around him.

He was searching for his new personal secretary having lost sight of him half an hour ago now. Artemus Gordon had vanished in the seconds following their arrival at the French Embassy.

No doubt he was in gallant company, somewhere, possibly with the Ambassador's daughter, Miss Charlotte Du Plessis, he thought.

He finally spotted the other man standing beside the _Grand Escalier_ of white marble leading to the first storey. He was talking with three high-ranking military officers. One was a colonel from the German II Reich, another a general from the Russian Empire, and the third one another a Major from the British Empire. He observed Artemus, catching here and there words in German and Russian. He smiled proudly. His newest recruit spoke both languages fluently, with no American accent.

Stephen Henderson swallowed the rest of his Champagne and following the President's gaze he said, "Artemus is like a pig in clover."

James Richmond agreed with the physician and added, "And an excellent diplomat – and spy. He has an extraordinary facility for picking up errant scraps of information. I'm sure that he will learn many things tonight…."

As Grant and Henderson watched, Miss Du Plessis grabbed Artie's arm and they both headed toward a group of young women, looking absolutely delighted to meet the temporarily ex-secret agent. He smiled and added, "And possibly more from the women's chatting than conversing with men."

Ulysses S. Grant nodded. "I'm sure I will find a report on my desk tomorrow morning at first light." He said, as he fished around in the pockets of his jacket (loaded with two dozen cigars, a day's supply, the same as during the war), taking out a long, thick, cigar and a small pocket knife. "He's very talented, and his reports are perfect, detailed, precise and well-written." He opened the small knife and clipped the end of the cigar off, then dropped the cut tip in an ashtray nearby. "I make him read the other agents' reports before I read them, for a second look, another opinion, and he gave them back to me corrected and annotated. In two days I have already avoided two potentially grave political faux pas," He continued, pocketing the small knife. Then he raised his cigar to his mouth, placing it between his teeth. Then he pulled out a box of matches from his breast coat pocket, struck one against the side of the table he was standing close by, and lighted up his cigar. "I'd like to keep him as my secretary, but he's too good an agent to keep him behind a desk."

Richmond nodded. "Yes he is, Mr. President, but if you need him at your side again, he'll be more than pleased to be called to Washington on special assignment, to be your secretary again – or even work at the Treasury Department… As long as he can have lovely Ladies around him, and do a little spying too."

Grant took a deep drag from his big cigar and puffed out a long, slow breath of smoke. "I could replace him temporarily with Jeremy Pike," he said, tinged blue smoke escaping between his lips as he spoke. "Or with Frank Harper."

Richmond nodded. "Good idea, Sir. Jim and Jeremy are good friends, and Jim and Frank too. Speaking of Jim and Jeremy, they are on a new mission in Saint-Louis since this morning. The two of them like to work together."

Dr. Henderson approved. "It's a good idea to replace Artemus with Jeremy Pike or Frank Harper when he needs a pause, like now. Despite his reputation as a man of steel that is indestructible, he is only a man who sometimes needs rest." He frowned when he saw, like the President and the Head of the Secret Service saw too, the women grouped around Artemus – a dozen he counted – offering him glasses of _Cidre Royal_ (a French cocktail made with a measure of Calvados topped up with cider) which he drank and French pastries stuffed with cream (he devoured) – as they were standing in front of the buffet. "But he must be careful not to drink and eat too much, because it's not good for his health. But I will keep an eye on him during his stay in Washington, of course."

Grant smiled. "I'm sure, Stephen."

Ulysses S. Grant smoked his cigar slowly for a couple of minutes, then he removed it from his mouth when he saw the French Ambassador heading toward him.

Pierre Du Plessis smiled broadly. "It would seem that _Monsieur_ Gordon is grabbing the attention of all the pretty young women present here tonight, Mr. President."

Grant glanced at Artemus who, blindfolded with a napkin was now playing at blind man's buff. As he was the hunter, he was hunting the young women who were circling him – not too far away – but carefully avoiding his touch.

But he managed to touch a lovely blonde and she froze, giggling when Artie started to caress her face, trying to determine who she was. "It's Nathalie," he said.

The blonde shook her head. "No, it's Caroline. You lost _Monsieur_ , and for that, I demand a kiss…" and she smiled when Artie kissed her on her cheek. "Not here _Monsieur_ , on my lips… _sur mes lèvres_." And Artemus was more than happy to oblige.

Then, the game re-started. A few seconds later, he touched another _demoiselle_ , didn't recognize her and had to kiss her.

Richmond chuckled softly. "That game is very interesting. Losing is more interesting than winning, and Artemus loses each round."

Henderson smiled. "And he obviously loves to lose."

Glancing at a few men watching the scene with envy and even jealousy, Grant said to Du Plessis, "I hope that my man won't have to fight a duel at dawn tomorrow morning."

The French Ambassador shook his head and smiled. "He won't, no, _Monsieur le President_. All the _demoiselles_ playing with _Monsieur_ Gordon are friends of my daughter and are not married, not even fiancéed. Even if one of the young men attending the reception was upset by the… kisses your man gives to them, he wouldn't do anything, because _Monsieur_ Gordon's reputation precedes him. everyone here knows that he's one of the best special agents of the Secret Service, he's is very good fencer and very good shot. They wouldn't want to end up in the hospital." He turned around and clapped his hands. "I prepared a surprise for you, Mr. President. And I hope you will like it."

President Grant frowned, upset. He didn't like surprises. As a former military man, and now as POTUS he liked things to be planned in advance and proceed according to his predictions. Quite the opposite of surprises. "I like surprises," he said in diplomatic language not wanting to offend his host. But his instinct ringing warning bells in his head, he beckoned to Artemus – realizing too late that his agent had a blindfold and couldn't see him, and said, "Mr. Gordon!"

Artemus stopped playing blind man's buff and removed his blindfold. He immediately spotted Grant and said, "Yes Sir."

Chagrined, the lovely young women pouted. "Duty calls, ladies. But do not go too far, the game is not over, just interrupted," he said with a wink.

Charlotte Du Plessis kissed Artie on his lips and said, "Don't be too long, mon chéri. I'd like to have a private conversation with you on the balcony… where no one can see us."

Artemus smiled and, taking the young woman's hand, he kissed it, softly. "Later. The President needs me." Then he joined Ulysses S. Grant and in full special agent mode he asked, "Is there a problem Sir?"

Moving back, Artie following him, so that Pierre Du Plessis couldn't hear them, President Grant nodded. "Mr. Du Plessis has prepared a surprise for me, and my instinct tells me there's something wrong with it, possibly dangerous. As you know, my instinct never betrays me."

Frowning, worried, Artemus made a gesture with his hand and the four bodyguards protecting the President converged around Grant.

Du Plessis noticed it and puzzled, he moved toward. Once at his side he asked him, "Something wrong, _Monsieur_ Gordon?"

Smiling, Artemus said, "No, nothing wrong, Ambassador. The President wanted everyone to be present for your surprise," he lied.

Du Plessis was reassured. "Good."

He smiled as he saw a man and a boy both dressed in black clothes enter the room. The boy was wearing a black leather mask covering his whole head. He was pushing a cart on which was sitting a big machine with a cylinder for recording and playing sound.

It was similar to one of his own devices, he thought, but his was more elaborate with a phonographic disc instead of a cylinder. It had a turntable protected by a circular lid, on which the disc was placed and was activated by a spring motor which needed to be tensioned before listening to a disc, by operating a scroll wheel. It possessed a tubular arm with at one end a needle allowing sounds to be played, sounds which were amplified by a removable cone-shaped attachment, the whole thing small enough to fit in your pocket. The speed was provided by a regulator. He used them to record voices, sounds, and music in order to distract an opponent or make him believe that he was in a place while in fact he was elsewhere.

Moving protectively in front of the President, Artemus lowered his hand to the small gun he kept in a holster at his side.

Pierre Du Plessis clapped his hands and said, "Dear guests, may I have your attention please?" And when everyone looked at him, he continued, "I met yesterday a fabulous inventor and his son at a restaurant! The Guzzinis! I told them that I was giving a reception today and _Monsieur_ Guzzini proposed to come here tonight with his son to show us his latest invention, the device that you see before you, which can record voices and music and then play them back. He can record songs for example. I offer you the possibility tonight to record your own voice, solo or with other persons, then _Monsieur_ Guzzini will offer to provide you with a small version of his device that you could use at home to play the recording again and again, as many times as you want."

Immediately there were 'aaahs!' And 'ooohs!' of surprise and pleasure.

Narrowing his eyes, clearly upset, Artemus realized that someone had stolen his invention, or stolen Edison's, which was based on his own invention.

Curious, the Russian general asked, "Why is the boy's head covered with a mask?"

Mr. Guzzini let out a sad sigh and said, "My boy was disfigured in a fire. The skin on his face melted and he lost his hair. As people were afraid of him, he decided to hide his head."

Immediately there were sad 'ooohs' and some "poor boy" and a few "it's so sad' and a couple of "'it's horrible, poor boy".

Focusing on the boy, Artemus felt that something was wrong… but couldn't put his finger on it. He scratched his head wondering what it could be.

The boy took the handle in his hand, actioning the cylinder and his father said, "But before we start the recordings of your voices, I'm going to let you hear a sample… Ready son?"

Nodding the boy let out a laugh.

Instantly Artemus's hair stood up on the back of his neck as he recognized that particular laugh, more like a cackle, which belonged to… Miguelito Quixote Loveless.

In a flash Artie thought: It is not a boy! Loveless has hidden his head behind a mask so he can't be identified. He is here! The President is in mortal danger!

But before he could react, Lyle Arcularis's voice resounded from the machine: "You're going to focus on my voice, on my voice only. Nothing exists but my voice. You will obey my voice… Black!"

Immediately Artemus froze like a statue, his eyes vacant, his expression was blank, stone-like. He was waiting for his orders, ready to do whatever the now dead hypnotist wanted.

Lyle Arcularis's voice commanded, "Kill Ulysses S. Grant!"

In a hypnotic trance Artemus moved to obey. He unholstered his gun and turned around, pointing the revolver at a stunned Grant.

Stupefaction which turned into anxiety and fear.

Richmond reacted instinctively. He grabbed Artemus's arm and pushed the other man to the side. There was a loud BANG!, the bullet brushed against the President''s shoulder and sank into the wall.

Everyone froze in place for a long moment, and then the flight started and people began to run in all directions, panicked.

Devoid of emotion, Artie raised a fist and hit the Colonel square in his face propelling him backward and cocked the hammer of his gun again.

Moving toward Grant, two of his hulky bodyguards from the USSS marshalled the POTUS out of the ballroom to put him in a safe place while two other agents leapt on Artemus, pinning him to the floor. Artie managed to push them off and stand up, hand already curled into a fist.

Colonel Richmond gave an order to the agents, "Stop him, but don't hurt him too much. He's not responsible for his acts."

Deciding to accomplish his mission: kill Ulysses S. Grant, Artemus needed to get rid of the agents trying to neutralize him. That's why he punched one sending the big guy stumbling backwards against a table. When the other man rushed toward him, he kicked him in the groin. The blond agent yelped and collapsed to the floor, grunting, red-faced, tears of pain rolling down his face. Artemus was rapid enough to duck the fist flying toward his face coming from the second bodyguard, but the dark-haired man was able to grab hold of the front of his jacket and he couldn't avoid the steel-like fist which collided with his face – twice.

But Artie barely felt it and in return started throwing punch after punch. He hit the agent in the face and in his chest. But the blond agent came back to help his partner. He rushed forwards, intent on knocking the Artemus off balance and into a Corinthian column. But Artie anticipated his opponent's intention and moving deftly to the side, he stretched out his leg to trip him up. The stumbling agent hit the marble column head first and crumpled to the wood floor, passed out.

Richmond had had enough. He reeled back and brought his fist down to connect with the side of Artemus's face. sending the other man partially down to the ground.

Following suit, the dark-haired agent hit Artie's head with the butt of his gun, sending him crashing to the floor. with a bloody and battered face.

Richmond knelt beside Artemus and took his pulse. Then he looked up at the blond agent. "Carter! Call an ambulance!"

Carter nodded. "Yes Sir!"

Miguelito Loveless who had stayed to watch the fight, hiding behind a table, hoping that Artie would win it and go after Grant, growled in despair and then frustration as his plan to kill Grant had failed, and seizing the opportunity given by the general panic, he tried to move the cart and the device out of the room, but he couldn't as the room was suddenly filled with policemen.

He glanced at his goon. "Take the cylinder! I can build another machine, but this cylinder is unique!" he commanded.

But Guzzini was pushed to one side by a group of panicked women who had grouped in a corner and that the policemen was evacuating - in complete disorder.

Upset to say the least, Loveless had no other choice but to follow them and abandoned his device and cylinder.

Once outside, the diminutive man met Voltaire, waiting for him on the sidewalk and the giant helped him to enter the carriage parked there.

Guzzini took his place beside the coachman and the vehicle moved away.

He settled on the seat, Voltaire taking his place in front of him, and suddenly realized that he could send the giant to retrieve his machine and the cylinder.

He was ready to say 'stop!' and to send him to do just that when, through the window he saw dozens of armed soldiers converging on the French Embassy joining all the policemen already gathered there.

He sighed. "Too late." Looking up at Voltaire he added, "Grant is still alive. Gordon was so close to killing him, but Richmond intervened!... But it will wait for another time." He pulled a face. Even if he could build a new recording-playing machine, the sole existing cylinder with Arcularis's voice was lost. He wouldn't be able to use it to control Artemus Gordon again and 'ask' him to kill Grant.

WWW

 _Later, at the Military Hospital_

President Grant leaned over Artemus lying on a bed and shackled to it. He was immobile, staring at the ceiling, his eyes vacant, waiting for his orders.

His face was bruised and his lower lip spit.

Dr. Henderson nodded. "He's been like that since he regained consciousness," he explained. "He's still in a hypnotic trance."

Grant turned around and looked at Stephen Henderson standing beside the door, arms crossed on his chest and his brow furrowed in worry. "Tell me that he's not going to stay like this," he said, fishing for a cigar in the pocket of his formal jacket.

Henderson sighed. "I re-read James West's report on what happened with Lyle Arcularis before he was killed, Mr. President. There's only one way to 'wake' Artemus from that hypnotic trance state… Lyle Arcularis has to say the trigger word releasing his mind, "white."

Grant nodded. "I read that report too. He looked back at the 'absent' man. "The problem is that Mr. Arcularis was killed a few days ago."

Meeting Grant beside the bed, the physician nodded. "Yes, and I don't know what to do… it's like he's in a coma again."

Suddenly the door opened and the two soldiers posted in the corridor allowed Frank Harper to step inside. The moustached agent was pushing the cart on which the 'Guzzini's' device was sitting.

Frank Harper rolled it toward the bed and said, "I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. President, Colonel, but there's a way to 'wake' Artemus from his hypnotic trance."

Dr. Henderson nodded. "Yes, we know. But Mr. Arcularis is dead. He's not going to be able to say 'white" anymore," he said.

Harper shook his head. "He still can, Sir. After Colonel Richmond informed me of the situation, and ordered me to take the matter in hand, Jim and Jeremy not being available, I listened to the whole recording and Dr. Loveless has recorded Mr. Arcularis saying the trigger word 'white" releasing Artemus's mind from his hypnotic condition. I discovered too that he has also recorded Arcularis's ordering Artemus to kill James West. Then, to kill himself after that. I suppose that he did the recording to be able to use that machine on Artemus whenever he wanted, to have him at his command anytime he wanted."

Grant let out a long sigh of relief and grinned. "Then you're going to be able to free Artemus's mind from that hypnotic trance, good, good."

Henderson's enthusiasm was less apparent. Frowning he asked, "Do you think Dr. Loveless possess copies of that cylinder?"

Frank Harper shook his head. "No Sir. Following some testimonies of people there, Dr. Loveless wanted to retrieve the cylinder containing Mr. Arcularis's recordings. A witness told me that he had heard Dr. Loveless tell his henchman, "Take the cylinder! I can build another machine, but this cylinder is unique!" Then Artemus is definitively freed of Mr. Arcularis's influence."

WWW

 _The next afternoon_

 _At the Washington Military Hospital_

Looking at his feet covered with the blanket, avoiding the direction of Grant's eyes since he had 'woken up' his pummeled face aching and with a pounding, blinding, headache, absolutely mortified, Artemus mumbled, "I'm so very sorry, Mr. President, Sir. What I did is… is inexcusable."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, while a soldier unshackled the agent, the president said, "On the contrary, it's perfectly excusable. You were hypnotized, not responsible for your actions. You didn't try to kill me son, Dr. Loveless did, using Mr. Arcularis's indirect assistance."

Once Artemus's movements weren't restrained anymore, the soldier left with the shackles and closed the door behind him.

Reaching out, the President took Artie's hand in his and pressed it. "Look at me Artemus, you don't need to be embarrassed. You are the victim here. Dr. Loveless used you, without your consent. Fortunately Colonel Richmond intervened."

Finally looking up at the POTUS, Artemus said, "Yes, Sir. I'm glad he did. I could have killed you."

President Ulysses S. Grant nodded and fished around in the pockets of his jacket taking out two long, thick, cigars. "Stephen is going to keep you under observation until tomorrow midday, to be sure you are alright." Using his pocket knife he clipped the end of the cigars off, then handed one to the other man. "I want you in my office tomorrow afternoon, I have reports for you to read, I need your opinion before taking any action," he said, pocketing the small knife. Then he raised his cigar to his mouth, placing it between his teeth. "I'm glad you're back, son."

Tbc.


	7. Tag

**THE NIGHT OF THE DISGUISED ASSASSIN**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **TAG**

 _Three weeks later, the Wanderer_

 _Washington railroad yard_

Pouring fresh coffee into a mug, James West said, "I'm happy to have you back Artie. I missed you a lot buddy, and the cats missed you a lot too."

Marmalade and AG sprawled possessively on his lap, Aztec perched on his right shoulder, Artemus smiled and replied, "I'm glad to be back too. I missed you a lot too, Jim, and the cats very much too." Tears of joy and pleasure were stinging his eyes and he blinked them away.

Giving the steaming cup to his partner sitting in the armchair, Jim smirked. "Are you sure you're happy to be back? Because I heard that you spent a lot of time gallivanting with beautiful young women. Three of them, I saw, accompanied you to the train."

Petting a purring Marmie with his free hand, Artie chuckled. "Well, you know me… I love mixing work and pleasure, especially when I am in Washington, where I know lots of people… and many of them are women. It's not my fault if I'm irresistible…" He grinned, amused and added, "But I also enjoyed the President's company for three weeks as I was working for him. It was a great experience. The complicity which we had during the war reappeared and I adored finding it." He took a sip of coffee or what his best friend called coffee, he thought, grimacing at the ultra-bitter taste and added, "but I didn't miss your coffee though. I'm sure that it's going to burn holes in my stomach." He smiled and continued, "I thought it would be a tedious desk-job, but it was quite the contrary. It was very interesting and fascinating sometimes and not boring at all. If one day the President needs me again to be at his service in Washington, I would accept with pleasure."

Holding a cup of coffee, Jim took his place on the couch facing the armchair occupied by the older man and the cats and said, "Jeremy and Frank told me about what happened at the French Embassy. Dr. Loveless struck again. But he won't be able to use that cylinder with the recording of Arcularis's voice against youagain , in order to put you in a hypnotic trance."

Placing the half full cup of awful coffee on the coffee table, Artie replied, "Yes, even if the trigger words are still in my mind, I won't react to them anymore. It's over." He rubbed a hand over his tired eyes and yawned. He looked dead tired. "Boy! I'm a tired. Grant kept me busy day and night."

Smirking Jim asked, "Grant? Really? Are you sure all those young lovely women weren't responsible for all your sleepless nights Artie?"

Artie smiled and stayed vague, keeping that part private, "Not all of them, but some of them…"He cleared his throat. "Speaking of Loveless, he's disappeared again, but I heard that Voltaire was arrested in Chicago and escorted to his new high-security penitentiary… Poor Doctor. He needs to find a new hulky man-servant and bodyguard again, tsk! Tsk!" He paused, and asked, "So James my boy, tell me, how was it to live and work with Jeremy?"

Taking another sip of coffee Jim responded, "I'm used to you being at my side but it went very well. Of course, he's not you. You can spend hours in your lab, or reading sitting in the armchair in silence, so I can clean my gun and read the newspapers in peace. He can't spend two minutes without talking about everything and nothing and doing things. You love everything to be tidy and clean, the stable car included is always impeccable, he left things lying everywhere, even dirty dishes in the galley, etc, etc. And the cats didn't like him . Each time he tried to pet them, they hissed at him. Even Aztec who's no more than an adorable kitten, scratched his hand twice. Oh! And he's not a Chef. I missed your cuisine, Artie. His cooking 'talents' are as bad as mine."

Frowning in mock offense, Artie asked, "Is that all I am for you, Jim? A quiet man, doing housework and cooking good food?

Jim chuckled. "More than good, excellent food. You're a Chef, Artie. Oh I have a good idea. We could open a restaurant together on board the Wanderer and become very rich."

Lowering Aztec from his shoulder to his lap, already-fluffy-cat-filled, Artie said, "I have a better idea, Jim. We could have a train with a restaurant coach, sleeping couches and a baggage car – and of course the fastest steam engine in the US, and offer people a long-distance train service which would be a showcase of luxury and comfort… what trains, except the Wanderer and President's train, lack, between New York and San Francisco for example. We could call the train 'the Transamerica express'!... because it would be the fastest train in the whole country. How does it sound?"

Jim smiled watching Aztec claw her way back to her owner's shoulder, climbing Artie's arm. "I like it. Maybe we could do that after we both retire."

Petting Marmie and AG both at the same time, eliciting a concert of loud purrs, Artemus replied, "I will retire before you, _young man_. You will end your career in the Secret Service with another partner. If, of course we survive until we can retire. It's not certain. Maybe if Dr. Loveless was behind bars, definitively."

Standing, Jim moved toward the table to refill his cup with coffee. "If we retire one day, Artie. We could do this forever," he said.

Freezing Artie frowned, intrigued. "What do you mean?"

Before taking a sip of the hot beverage Jim responded, "Well think about it, Artie. Other Presidents could need our 'expertise' in the future, who knows?"

His frown deepening, Artie said, "I will say "no, thank you, even to the President". That's all. I do not plan to return to the Secret Service after retirement. No."

Sitting back on the couch, holding a steaming cup of coffee again, Jim asked, "I don't remember if we ever discussed this, but what are your plans for 'after'?"

Brushing Aztec's tiny nose with a fingertip, Artemus sighed. "The 'Transamerica' train idea is very tempting, but I'm not rich enough to have such a train built, you neither. So, I think I will go back to the theater world. My first love is Shakespeare and the stage. I'm hesitating between joining a troupe traveling throughout the country or stay permanently in a theater and even own it. Maybe, if I'm lucky, I will meet a lovely woman who will accept the chance to share my life and have children, I'd like that very much." He paused, a faraway look in his eyes. "Or I could go live with White Crow, it's very tempting… I don't know yet. You?"

Rubbing his chin pensively, Jim said, "Well…I always wanted to have a ranch somewhere sunny and hot with friendly people around me, beautiful women included, a peaceful place for breeding horses. I'm thinking about a small village in Mexico. I'd like to have a wife and children too. I could teach them to ride a horse even before they can walk."

Feeling Aztec settle on his head, Artie said, "of course we'll stay in contact. We'll visit each other as many times as possible."

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Jim stood, headed to the rear part of the parlor suite and opened the said door. He revealed a boy of about 10 standing on the platform holding a small box covered with brown paper.

The boy said, "A man gave me one dollar to give this packet to you, Sir." He placed the packet in Jim's hand and held his hand out. "He told me that you would give me a dollar, too."

Frowning, intrigued, Jim glanced at the package he was holding then at the boy and asked, "Can you describe the man to me?"

The boy nodded. "Yes Sir! He was big! Very big, I've never seen a man so big, and he was dressed in black clothes. He was kind of scary."

Joining his partner, with Aztec perched on his shoulder, again, Artemus said, "It's Voltaire." He fished a dollar from the pocket of his waistcoat and placed it in the boy's hand. "Thank you." Then, like Jim he watched the boy leave the rear platform of the Wanderer.

Once the door was closed, Jim placed the small package on the work table and said, "Well, Loveless sent us a gift, Artie."

Curious, Aztec climbed down Artimus's arm to jump on the table. She sniffed at Loveless's 'present' and looked up at her owner, mewling.

Smiling, Artie petted the kitten's head. "You want me to open it? It could be a bomb you know? or a device releasing a deadly gas…" But he unwrapped the brown paper nonetheless, revealing a black painted wooden box. He lifted the lid and blinked… twice, very surprised.

Reaching out, Jim took the reduced recording-playing device with a mini cone and glanced at Artie. "It looks like Dr. Loveless built the same device as yours, Artie."

Upset, Artemus said in a clipped tone, "I built it first, years ago."

Patting his best friend's arm soothingly, Jim said, "You are a better engineer and inventor than him and look! His device needs to be activated with a key. Yours just needs a scroll wheel. They are more elaborate." He sighed and added, "Dr. Loveless has a message for us."

Scooping up the mini cat, Artie cradled a purring Aztec in his arms then and said, "I think you're going to listen to it alone Jim. He could somehow have found a way to put me in a hypnotic trance again. It's better to be safe than sorry. I'll be in my room. See you later, Jim."

Jim nodded. "Good idea. I'll see you in a little bit," he said.

Artemus headed toward the door leading to the narrow walkway Marmalade and AG followed him and after a few seconds he entered his sleeping compartment, the cats preceding him.

Using the key, Jim tensioned the spring and activated the device, the speed provided by a regulator and suddenly a gunshot resounded. Startled Jim took an instinctive step back and registered that it was recorded. Then Loveless's voice resounded: "Bang! you're dead." There was a cackle. "Next time, you will be dead, really dead. It could happen soon, very soon. Be seeing you. Sincerely yours, Dr. Miguelito Loveless."

It was over.

Brow creased, Jim sighed in irritation. Another of Loveless's threats.

He shook his head as he dismissed it. The Doctor loved to play mind games with Artie and him. He loved maintaining them under pressure, on their guard, he thought. Most of the time the threats were only threats, and he hoped it was the case here also.

He closed the box and then headed toward Artie's sleeping compartment. He knocked at the door, opened it and… discovered his best friend lying on his bed, on his back, his head resting on his pillow, eyes closed, his left arm dangling over the side, with a living( and fluffy blanket made of purring cats on top of him. AG was sprawled on his legs and Marmie on his upper body. As for Aztec she was curled on the pillow beside Artemus's head with one paw on her owner's cheek.

He smiled broadly. "Sleep well, Artie and you too kitties, sleep well," he said as he noticed the cats were settled for a nap.

He closed the door.

The end.


End file.
